


Patron Saint of Lost Causes

by themetaphorgirl



Series: Patron Saint of Lost Causes [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug, Alex Blake is a queen, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Drama, Emily's goth/punk/grunge phase gives me life, Found Family, Gen, Hotch is a dad, Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, the slowest of slow burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 151,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetaphorgirl/pseuds/themetaphorgirl
Summary: They all ended up at boarding school for different reasons, but they ended becoming a makeshift family of their own. And thank goodness for that, because they might not survive the school year without each other.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Haley Hotchner, Alex Blake/James Blake
Series: Patron Saint of Lost Causes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935463
Comments: 1039
Kudos: 987





	1. your heart is an empty room

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted to ff.net under the name Keitorin Asthore

_Burn it down, till the embers smoke on the ground_  
_And start new when your heart is an empty room_  
_With walls of the deepest blue_

_And all you see is where else you could be_  
_When you're at home_  
_Out on the street are so many possibilities_  
_To not be alone_

\--"Your Heart is an Empty Room," Death Cab for Cutie

"Don't look at me like that, Emily. It won't be that bad."

Emily gritted her teeth, her fingers locking around the strap of her carryon bag. The airport was freezing and she was regretting the choice to not bring a jacket. "Easy for you to say, Mom," she said. "You're not getting shipped off to boarding school in a different continent."

Elizabeth sighed. "Honey, this is for the best," she said. "St. Thaddeus is a great school. And it's about time for you to spend some time in America with normal kids, instead of getting dragged all over the world with me."

"But I like getting dragged all over the world," Emily argued. "And I love Italy, I want to stay here. I have friends here, Mom, and-"

She stopped abruptly. She hadn't told her mother about Matthew yet, and she wasn't about to now.

"...and I want to stay here," she said instead.

Elizabeth leveled her gaze. "You know that's not an option anymore, Emily," she said.

She shrugged. "You could pull some strings."

Elizabeth shifted her purse from one arm to another. "Not anymore, not at this point. I don't know what's been going on with you, Em, but trust me. I'm trying to do what's best for you."

"You could always send me to live with my dad," she said flatly.

"Enough," Elizabeth said, cool and clipped, and Emily bit back a sigh. Conversations were always over when her mother used her ambassador voice. Elizabeth glanced at her watch. "You should get to your gate. Your flight is going to start boarding in twenty minutes."

Emily's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. She had already known deep down that she wasn't going to win this battle- she came by her stubbornness honestly- but she still didn't want to give up without a fight. "Mom, I don't want to go," she said. "Please don't make me."

"Sweetheart, you have to," Elizabeth said, touching her cheek lightly. She kissed her forehead. "Be safe. Call me as soon as you land. A driver is already scheduled to take you from the airport to the school." She pressed the boarding pass and passport into her hand. "I love you, Emily."

Emily nodded. "Love you," she echoed.

She shouldered her carryon and made her way towards her gate without looking back, her heart beginning to thump in her chest. International flights were nothing new, even traveling alone wasn't new. She was adept at finding her own way, forging her own path. She was sixteen years old, she could handle this.

But at the same time, she was only sixteen years old, and she was about to spend the next semester in a different country, at a new school, and for the first time in her life she didn't have the lodestone of her mother anchoring her in place.

Emily waited quietly at the gate until her boarding group was called; she was one of the first to take her seat on the plane. She sat alone by the window, fiddling with the cheap silver locket around her neck.

 _No going back now_ , she thought. _You'll be fine, Prentiss. Suck it up._

* * *

JJ stood quietly next to her mother as she chatted with her new resident advisor, surreptitiously gazing around the main hall. When she agreed to go to boarding school, she didn't think it was going to be this large. There were more kids here than in her public school back home in Pennsylvania.

"So you've already gotten her textbooks?"

"Yes, and we confirmed her uniforms, and had her photo taken for her student ID."

"Then the only thing left is to get your keys and get you moved into your dorm room," the RA said cheerfully. "What's your last name, sweetie?"

"Jareau," JJ said, and she spelled it out as the RA flipped through her files.

"Aha, there it is," she said. "It's nice to meet you, Jennifer. I'm Tara, I'll be your RA in Lincoln House this year."

"I go by JJ," she said.

Tara smiled. "JJ it is," she said. She handed her a silver key and a red plastic fob on a keyring. "So Lincoln House is on the left side of the courtyard, you can't miss it. Right now all the doors are open for move-in day, but starting tomorrow, that fob will let you in and out of the building. The key is for your room, you're on the second floor in 212. I think your roommate's already moved in."

JJ rolled the cool metal key around in her fingers. "How long do we have to get her settled?" Sandy asked.

Tara checked her watch. "It's nine-thirty now, you'll have until five tonight," she said. She handed a red folder to Sandy. "There's plenty of information in there- a map of the school, your schedule for orientation week, important phone numbers. And that includes mine, so don't hesitate to call me if you need me."

"Thank you so much," Sandy said, shaking her hand. "Come on, JJ. Let's get you moved in."

JJ followed her mother obediently through the crowd, staying close to her side. Not only was St. Thaddeus larger than her school back home in Pennsylvania, it was a rich kid's school, all mahogany walls and marble floors. Suddenly this seemed like a very, very bad idea.

The courtyard behind the main building was beautiful, a main cobblestone square surrounded by emerald green grass and orderly rows of azaleas and hollybushes. Posterboard signs with cheerful bubble letters and balloons in bright primary colors marked the way.

"There we go, Lincoln House, right over there," Sandy said. She wrapped her arm around JJ's shoulders. "Looks nice, doesn't it?"

"Uh-huh."

Sandy gave her a little squeeze. "I think this is just what you need, sweetheart," she said. "A fresh start."

"Sure," she said, and she slipped out from her mother's embrace. "Let's go. I want to see my new room."

Lincoln House wasn't nearly as fancy as the main hall. The lobby was a little plainer and little homier, with plain yellow walls and a scuffed hardwood floor. A tired upperclassman boy in a red tee shirt that said "RA" in big yellow letters sat at the desk next to a sign pointing towards the stairwell.

"Second floor isn't too bad," Sandy remarked. "Not too many steps."

JJ shrugged. "It's fine."

Each door on the second floor was marked with construction paper hearts listing the names of the occupants. A couple of doors were already decorated with other things- sports banners, streamers, little whiteboards with scribbled messages. JJ pulled out her key as they reached room 212 and turned it in the lock.

One side of the room was left plain and stocked with standard dorm room furniture- a twin bed, a nightstand, a desk and chair, a dresser- and the cardboard boxes they'd shipped ahead of time from Pennsylvania were stacked neatly on the floor. The other side was already decorated.

Extremely decorated.

The comforter on the bed was vibrant pink and covered in sequined pillows, a glittery lava lamp bubbled on the nightstand, and the walls were decked in posters. A large iMac stood on the desk, and every square inch of space left was covered in a vast array of brightly colored figures of animated characters and cute animals.

"Well," Sandy said. "Your roommate seems fun."

JJ stared. "Uh-huh."

Sandy clapped her hands cheerfully. "Well, let's get you unpacked, okay?" she said. "You get started, I'm going to go give Dad a call. I'll be out in the hall if you need me."

"I'll be fine," JJ said. She pulled the tape off the top of the first box in a neat single strip and started pulling out clothes.

Her dad hadn't wanted to come with them. He had claimed he was too busy, and that it would be fun for them to have a mother-daughter trip. But she wasn't stupid. She knew he didn't want to come.

"Oh, hi!" a voice chirped behind her. JJ dropped the dress she was unfolding. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I have that effect on people sometimes."

JJ turned around slowly. "Hi," she said.

"Hi, yourself," her new roommate said. She was around the same height as JJ, and also blonde, but her hair was tied up in two buns with purple bobbles and her eyes danced behind a pair of chunky pink glitter glasses. "I'm Penelope Garcia. I think you're my roommate?" She peeked around to the front of the door. "It says Jennifer. Are you Jennifer?"

"I, um...I go by JJ," she said. She was getting the impression that her roommate was less of a human and more of a living Lisa Frank character.

"JJ, perfect, I love it, it suits you," Penelope said. She picked up a blue sharpie marker from her desk, plucked the construction paper heart from the door, and scribbled on it. "I'll fix it. There. So much better." She slapped the heart back on the door. "Lovely."

JJ blinked. "So...you already moved in, I guess?" she said.

"Uh-huh," Penelope said. She frowned, dug around under the sea of pillows on her bed, and grinned as she pulled out a Macbook covered in stickers. "I did the whole early admission thing. Got here yesterday." She plunked down on her bed. "So you're a freshman too?"

JJ threaded a hanger through the dress in her hands. "Mm-hm."

"Oh, perfect," Penelope said. "Sometimes they mix up grades, and I was like...ugh, what if they put me with an upperclassman with no sense of humor? And I'm only thirteen, I skipped fifth grade, so I'm the youngest student in the ninth grade here."

"That's cool," JJ said, smiling as she hung up her dress in the empty half of the small closet. "I'm fourteen."

"Do you need any help unpacking?" Penelope asked eagerly. "I'm extremely bored, and I'm extremely good at organizing."

JJ laughed. "Sure," she said. "I think that box has books, if you want to do those."

"Perfect!" Penelope said, jumping off her bed. "Where do you want them? Don't worry, you're in good hands."

* * *

"When you two offered to help me move into my dorm room, I thought you would...you know. Actually help me."

Rossi grinned and flipped a page in his magazine. "I'm offering moral support, that's helpful," he said. Alex rolled her eyes and he tipped farther back on in her chair, his feet propped up on her desk. "Hey, I'd do more, but James already offered to do all the heavy lifting."

"Listen, I would pay money to see David Rossi doing heavy lifting," she said. "And you know I'd be helping you two, if you were boarding instead of day students."

He turned another page in his magazine. She knocked his shoes lightly and his chair came crashing back down on four legs. "Hey!" he yelped.

"My room, my rules," Alex shrugged.

James hobbled into the room, lugging a cardboard box. "I found it, it was at the front desk, it was labeled wrong," he huffed. "Jesus, Alex, what do you have in here?"

"Books, probably," she said. She tugged the lid back to take a peek. "Yep. Books."

James sighed. "Where do you want them?" he asked.

"Oh, no, you've done enough, make Dave put them away," she said.

"You're the one who works in the school library, why don't you do it?" Rossi protested.

James ruffled his hair. "Come on, Dave, I believe in you," he teased.

Alex brushed her hands off on her shorts. "I'm going to get a drink out of the vending machine, I'll be right back," she said. "James, keep an eye on him." She grinned at Rossi. "And if those are my dictionaries, I'd like them in alphabetical order by language, please."

"Yes, ma'am," Rossi sighed. He pulled the box open. "Great. Her dictionaries."

James laughed. "You heard her," he said. He picked up a book and chucked it at Rossi. "We told Alex helped."

"No, _you_ told Alex we would help," Rossi corrected. He frowned at the cover of the French-English dictionary and chucked it on the shelf above the desk. "And you only told Alex we would help because you've been hopelessly in love with her since our freshman year, and now that we're seniors you're running out of time."

James ducked his head. "Come on, Dave, it's not that easy…"

"It is!" Rossi said. "It is that easy, Blake! You ask her to go with you to the coffee shop in town on the weekend. Or you ask her to a dance. Hell, you pass her a note that says 'do you like me, check yes or no'."

James flushed red up to his ears. "Listen, just because you've gone out with every girl in our grade doesn't mean you're qualified to give me advice on my love life."

"Or lack thereof."

"You haven't gone past a third date! Ever!"

Rossi shrugged. "Que sera sera," he said. He held up a dictionary. "What language is this?"

"Uh...Welsh, I think."

He held the book at arm's length. "Huh," he said. "That's a new one for her." He shrugged and dropped it on the shelf.

A dark-haired girl peeked around the door as she knocked lightly. "Hi. This is 612, right?"

"Yeah, sure is," James said. "Are you Alex's new roommate?"

The girl walked into the room and sighed heavily as she dropped a monogrammed carryon bag on the floor. "I think so," she said. "God, there's so much walking on this campus. And why don't you guys have elevators?"

"Around here they believe that stairs build character," James said, amused. "You're new, I take it?"

"Yeah," she said, and she stuck out her hand. "Emily Prentiss."

"James Blake," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. "This miscreant over here is David Rossi."

Rossi held up a dictionary. "Pleasure," he said.

Emily brushed her dark hair back from her face; her thick eyeliner and mascara had smeared a little bit around her eyes. "But I'm guessing neither of you are my roommate," she said. "Somehow St. Thaddeus School doesn't strike me as the kind of forward-thinking institution to allow co-ed dorm rooms."

"You are correct," Rossi said. "Your actual roommate would be-"

Alex nudged the door open with her hip, her hands full. "All right, James, I got you a coke, and Rossi, I got you orange because you're a weirdo-"

"And we got you a roommate," Rossi said as he accepted the drink. "And orange soda isn't weird."

"Yeah, it is. All the sodas in the world, and you pick that one," Alex said. She cracked open her Dr. Pepper. "I'm Alex Miller. You're Emily Prentiss, I take it?"

Rossi could see the girls sizing each other up- Alex with her neatly tied ponytail and her school band tee shirt and her white keds sneakers; Emily with her heavy makeup and black-painted fingernails and heavy Doc Martens- and took a slow sip of his soda. _This isn't going to end well,_ he thought.

"Well, welcome to Roosevelt House," Alex said. "Do you need help getting unpacked? Between the four of us we can probably get everything set up pretty quickly."

"No, I'm good," Emily said. "I can do it myself."

Alex shrugged. "That's fine," she said. "Do you-"

But Emily had already popped a pair of airpods in her ears, effectively tuning her out, and was tearing open the top of a box. Alex sighed. "Oh boy," James teased. "And you were looking forward to having a new roommate for your senior year."

"Hush," Alex said, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. "She can't be nearly as bad as last year's."

* * *

Hotch sank down in his chair, biting back a yawn. It was almost six, and he'd been up since five running around up and down the stairs in Lincoln House getting new students moved in. And that was after the past week of prepping for orientation. He hadn't slept more than a few hours a night since he'd gotten on campus.

He stretched out his legs and watched new students hustle in and out of the lobby. It was worth it, at least. Becoming a resident advisor meant he could spend his junior year in a single room without a roommate, plus extra money in his flex account (especially since god only knew his aunt and uncle wouldn't give him any). And if he had to be in charge of the seventh floor and deal with a bunch of unruly high school boys, it would be a pretty decent trade off.

A basketball bounced on the hardwood floor and he bolted upright. "Hey, cut it out," he said. "You guys know better."

Derek Morgan fumbled to catch the ball before it could bounce again. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he said with a broad grin.

"Funny, you don't sound very sorry," Hotch said, rolling his eyes.

Morgan tucked the basketball under his arm. "And you don't sound super excited to have me on your floor this year," he said.

"How could you tell?" Hotch said dryly. He sat up in the chair and cracked his neck. "Are you trying out for football?"

"Hell yes I am!" Morgan said. "I heard we got a new coach. Maybe this one will let underclassmen play varsity."

"Even with a new coach, your odds aren't great," Hotch said. "Varsity is almost always the upperclassmen from Roosevelt and Kennedy. A sophomore from Lincoln has better luck getting struck by lightning." Morgan frowned. "Don't look at me like that. I don't want you getting your hopes up too high and then moping around for the rest of the semester like you did last year."

"C'mon, man, I was a scrawny little freshman last year," Morgan said. "I finally hit my growth spurt, they didn't assign me a roommate so I get the whole place to myself...it's gonna be my year, Hotch."

"If you say so," Hotch shrugged.

Morgan punched him lightly on the shoulder. "What about you?" he asked. "You gonna go out for baseball in the spring?"

"Probably not," Hotch said. "I don't have the time for extracurriculars."

Morgan perched on the arm of Hotch's chair and balanced the basketball on his knees. "Listen, I know you're focused on getting into law school, but lighten up a little, man," he said. "I'm sure you have a little time somewhere for having fun."

"No, my schedule's full," Hotch said. "And no basketballs in the dorm lobby."

"You're no fun at all."

"I'll compromise," Hotch said. "I'll let you leave it in the lobby closet. It's almost time for dinner."

Morgan craned his neck to look at Hotch's watch. "Oh shit, really?" he said. "Hold on, let me put this away."

"Make sure you get it after dinner!" Hotch called after him. He pushed himself out of the chair and stretched his arms above his head, finally giving into the yawn he'd been trying to hold back.

Morgan poked him in the side. "No wonder you're in such a bad mood, you need a nap, dude," he said.

"I'll sleep when orientatation is over," he said. "Come on, let's go."

The courtyard was quieter now that the sun was beginning to set; the orientation team was taking down the balloons and posterboard signs. He followed the familiar path to the dining hall, Morgan at his heels.

"Uh-oh, we got some lost freshmen," Morgan said. He nodded towards them. "Ten o'clock."

Hotch sighed. Two girls were standing on the path that led towards the science building, looking around in visible confusion. "Hey, you two," he called. "Where you headed?"

"The dining hall," the girl with pink glasses said. "I didn't think I needed a map, and I was sorely mistaken."

"Well, you're going the exact wrong way, baby girl," Morgan said.

The girl raised an eyebrow and his smile vanished quickly. "Baby girl?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"That's so cute!" she said. "My first school nickname. I love it. Adorable."

The other girl turned to Hotch. "Do you mind showing us around?" she asked. "We're a little lost."

"Not at all," Hotch said. "Stick with us. What's your name?"

"JJ, and this is Penelope," she said. "You're in Lincoln House too, right?"

"Yeah, I'm the seventh floor RA," Hotch said. "Where are you two?"

"Second floor, with Tara Lewis," JJ said.

Hotch opened the double doors to the hall. "You're lucky, then, she's one of the good ones," he said. "Come on, let's go. Hurry it up, Morgan."

* * *

Energetic high schoolers packed into the huge dining hall, the room buzzing with excited energy and buzzing with hundred of conversations. Alex picked her way through the crowed and set her tray down on the table next to Rossi and James. "Scoot, you guys," she said. She handed James a napkin. "I knew you'd forget."

"Oh, shit. Thanks."

Rossi set down his water glass. "So what do you think of your new roommate?" he asked.

She glanced back at the cafeteria line; Emily trailed behind the students in front of her, absently picking at her already-chipped black nail polish. "Not sure yet," she said. "I don't think she likes me all that much, that's for sure."

"Eh, give her time," Rossi shrugged. "Everyone struggles at a new school. And she's better than the girl with the rubber duck obsession."

"And the girl who kept eating your poptarts and borrowing your laptop when you weren't there," James offered.

"Or the girl who kept trying to sneak her boyfriend over."

"Rossi, the boyfriend was _you_ ," Alex said dryly.

Rossi shrugged. "She was the worst." Alex tore off part of her roll and tossed it at him.

Emily set her tray down across from James. "I hope you guys don't mind, I don't know where else to sit," she said.

"No problem," Rossi said. He waved his hand, dropping breadcrumbs from his roll. "Join the party. James and I are heading out soon anyways."

Emily frowned. "Why?"

"We don't live on campus," James explained. "Rossi and I commute. We're in Kennedy House. We've got a building of our own, but the dorms are just for Kennedy kids that want to stay overnight on occasion."

"And we have Cruze for our head of house, so we can get away with practically anything," Rossi added. Alex elbowed him. "I said practically."

"So what's the difference between Roosevelt and Lincoln?" Emily asked. "They're both dorms, right?"

"They are, but Lincoln is for the…" Alex paused.

"The troubled kids go to Lincoln," Rossi interrupted.

She sighed. "They're not bad kids, don't say it like that," she said.

"I'm right, and you know it," Rossi said, pointing his fork in her direction for emphasis

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emily asked as she hacked off the corner of her lasagna. "Is it like juvie or something?"

"Not exactly," Alex hedged.

"Lincoln is for at-risk kids that scored really high academically, or have some kind of potential that interests the school," James explained.

"But some of those kids should have gone to juvie instead," Rossi said. Alex elbowed him again. "Stop hitting me, Alexandra."

She rolled her eyes and switched to Italian. "You have got to get your head out of your ass. Just because your parents own half the town doesn't mean you can be a jerk," she said.

"I'm not being a jerk! I'm being honest. Some of those kids definitely should have gone to juvie," he argued.

James dropped his fork in his salad. "Guys, cut it out, you know I hate it when you speak in Italian to each other and leave me out," he complained.

"You could learn," Alex said to him as she picked up her water glass. "We've tried to teach you."

"And you know how bad I am at it."

Rossi raised an eyebrow. "Think of it this way, _bibliotecaria,_ " he said slyly, switching back to Italian. "We can gossip about your roommate and she won't have any idea."

"Roommate speaks Italian," Emily announced. She nudged her plate away. "And this lasagna is shit."

James burst out laughing. "Oh, man, Rossi, you didn't see that one coming."

"Not so fast, Blake, this means three of us can speak in Italian without you," Alex countered. She grinned at Emily, who tentatively smiled back.

James dropped his chin in his hand. "Goddammit," he sighed.

* * *

He had been wandering the campus for the past half hour, completely lost. There were no signs pointing his way, and he didn't have a map, and it was dark. It wasn't his fault that he'd missed orientation day, it wasn't his fault his flight got delayed.

He stopped in the middle of the path, gripping tight to the straps of his backpack, and swallowed down the babyish urge to give in to the tears that threatened to fall. This was not the time to cry. He could do this.

Other students walked past him in little groups of twos and threes, chatting with their new roommates and laughing over jokes that he didn't hear. He needed to ask him somebody to help him. But he had never been very good at that.

He wandered along the path, staring up at the night sky that had never seemed quite so big or quite so full of stars at home, until he suddenly collided with someone taller, sending him sprawling on the ground, eye-level with a scuffed pair of Doc Martens.

"What the fuck?" the girl said, bemused.

He squinted up at the strange girl. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't-"

She held out her hand, a rack of bracelets jingling on her wrist. "Are you okay?" she said.

The girl's friends caught up to her. "Jeez, Prentiss, you've been here twenty minutes and you're already beating up underclassmen?" one of the boys teased.

"Rossi, cut it out," the other girl sighed.

"I kid, I kid," Rossi shrugged. "Don't read me the riot act, Alex." He crossed his arms. "Speaking of kid, who's this?"

He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. "Spencer Reid," he said. "I'm new."

"Yeah, that I could guess," Rossi said, but he didn't sound like he was teasing to be mean. He wasn't sure, though, he was never good at figuring those things out.

"Are you lost?" Alex asked. "This is a pretty big campus, everyone gets turned around for the first couple of days."

"I missed orientation day," he said, and he could feel tears pushing against his eyes. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't a crybaby, he would have been fine if he had a map.

"What do you mean?" the other boy said.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "My plane was delayed, I don't know why, I think it was a problem with an aileron, so I ended up landing late, and no one was there to pick me up, so I had to figure out the bus system, and I take the bus system all the time back home but it's different here, so I only got here an hour or two ago, and-"

"Okay, motormouth, okay," Rossi said, but he didn't sound upset, he was laughing a little. "We get the picture."

"So you missed everything today?" Alex said. "You don't have any of your paperwork or your room key?" He shook his head. "That's okay. Do you remember which dorm you were placed in?"

"Lincoln House," he said.

Rossi looked at James and raised an eyebrow. "We'll walk you over there and figure out where you're supposed to be," Alex said. "Or at least Emily and I will. I think the boys have to hit the road."

"Yeah, probably," James said. "Nice to meet you, Spencer. We'll see you around, okay?"

He nodded. Alex touched his shoulder lightly, steering him down the path. Emily followed and stuck her hand in her jacket pockets. "I'm new too," she offered. "Fucking sucks, doesn't it?"

"I don't know, I think it's at least marginally better than my old school," he said. "There's also a lot more grass here than back home."

"Where's home?" Alex asked.

"Las Vegas," he said. "There's some grass, but only very specific drought-resistant varieties can grow. Did you know that zoysia grass is native to Asia, but it's been in the states since 1895?"

"No, I didn't know that," Alex said.

She walked him towards a large stone building with broad double doors propped open, leading to a well-lit lobby. Spencer stayed close to Alex's side, Emily trailing behind them. A dozen kids were hanging out, scattered across the lobby, but Alex made a beeline for the dark-haired upperclassman boy behind the desk. A couple of kids surrounded him. Two blonde girls sat on top of the desk; the one with pink glasses was talking way too loud and way too fast, flailing her hands around.

"...and so _that_ is how season five ended, it was _supposed_ to be the series finale, but it got renewed for a sixth season, and so the first episode of season six, there's a one year time jump-"

The boy sitting on the floor dropped the basketball he was attempting to spin on his fingers. "Wait a minute, wait a minute, _how_ many seasons does this show have?"

"Fifteen. So _anyways,_ in season six-"

He threw his head back and laughed. "Baby girl, we haven't even started the first day of classes yet, slow your roll," he said. "You've got plenty of time to explain all fifteen seasons."

"Fine," she sighed. "JJ, you'll watch with me though, right? I have all of it downloaded to my computer."

The other blonde girl shrugged. "Sure."

Alex cleared her throat. "Hi. I'm guessing by the shirt that you're an RA?" she said.

The oldest boy glanced down at his red shirt with the yellow RA letters. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Can I help you?"

"I found one of your kids," Alex said. "This is Spencer Reid. He missed orientation day, but he's in Lincoln House."

The RA paused, looking Spencer up and down. He was used to that look. It happened a lot after he skipped four grades in elementary school. Spencer pulled his welcome letter out of his pocket and silently handed it over.

He skimmed it quickly and handed it back. "Oh, Jesus," he said. "Hold on just a second, I'll go check in with the head of house and see if I can get his file." He got up, sliding JJ out of his way.

"Your boots are amazing," Penelope said to Emily, leaning to one side to get a better look.

"Thanks," Emily said. "Nice...glasses."

The boy on the floor got up, tucking his basketball under his arm. "So you're Spencer?" he said. Spencer nodded. "I'm is Penelope and JJ. Hotch is the RA...well, my RA, at least, I'm on his floor."

He offered them a half smile. There was too much happening, and the lights were too bright, and the lobby was too noisy, and for the first time in a long time he wished he could stay in Vegas and not have to deal with any change.

Hotch strode back towards them, followed by an older man in a well-worn maroon sweater. "Spencer, this is our head of house, Jason Gideon," he said.

Gideon held out his hand. Spencer usually avoided shaking hands if he could help it, but he tentatively shook it anyway. "I've been wondering where you've been, Spencer Reid," he said. "We didn't have a phone number to reach you or your parents."

"I don't have a phone," he said. "And my parents-"

He broke off midsentence, but Gideon either didn't notice or chose not to. "Luckily, you've already met your RA," he said. "You'll be on Aaron's floor, rooming with Derek Morgan."

"Oh, shit!" Derek said. "I thought I was gonna get a single room this year."

"Watch you language," Hotch warned.

Gideon didn't seem to notice. "We'll get your key and the rest of your paperwork in order tomorrow," he said. "It's getting late, we'll worry about the details later." He grinned. "I'm sure Strauss won't like that I'm disregarding procedures again, but unlike Strauss, I understand when the rules need to be bent a little bit." He turned to Alex and Emily. "Speaking of which, you two ladies should get back to Roosevelt House before she realizes you're not there."

"An excellent point," Alex said. She patted Spencer's shoulder lightly. "I'll see you around, Spencer, okay?"

Emily raised her hand in a peace sign. "Bye, kids."

Hotch looked at his watch. "Yeah, it's getting late," he said. "JJ, Penelope, you two had probably better call it a night. Morgan, let's get Spencer moved in." His eyes narrowed. "And no more basketball in the lobby. I mean it."

"Fine," Derek said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, kid. Where's your stuff?"

Spencer rolled his shoulders, try to ease the strain of his heavy backpack. "This is it," he said.

"Did your parents send your stuff ahead of time? I didn't see anything in the room other than Morgan's things."

He screwed up his face. "Um...no," he said.

Derek tossed his arm around his shoulders. "It won't take long to get you unpacked, then," he said. "Let's go, kid."

* * *

Spencer had said he didn't have a lot of stuff. Morgan was not prepared for how little he actually had. As soon as they got to the room, Spencer set his ratty backpack down and started pulling out the contents- books, mostly, from the look at it.

"You need some help?" he asked.

"If you want to," Spencer shrugged, handing him a book.

Morgan frowned at the cover. "The Mab...what is this?"

"The Mabinogion," Spencer explained, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "It's a compilation of some of the earliest prose stories found in Britain. They were originally written in Welsh. Well, Middle Welsh. Did you know that 'w' is actually a vowel in the Welsh language? It makes a kind of 'oo' sound. And technically they have twenty-nine letters in their alphabet."

"I didn't know any of that," Hotch said.

Spencer unpacked his clothes into a pile along with a toothbrush and a half-used tube of toothpaste. "That dresser's yours," Morgan said.

He paused. "The whole thing?"

"Yeah, the whole thing," Morgan said. Spencer hesitated, then dumped all of his clothes into the top drawer. "That works too."

Hotch frowned. "You're in ninth grade, correct?" he asked. Spencer nodded. "If you don't mind me asking...how old are you?"

Spencer hesitated. But Morgan was glad Hotch had asked, he was kind of curious himself. Spencer was small and thin as a rail, his hair shaggy and his clothes two sizes too large for him. He definitely didn't look like he was thirteen or fourteen.

"I'm ten years old," he confessed. "I skipped second grade. And third, and fourth." He paused. "And fifth."

"So...are you a genius or something?" Morgan asked.

Spencer scrunched up his face, making his nose wiggle like a rabbit's. "I have't had my IQ tested yet, but it's a distinct possibility," he said. "Researchers aren't sure of the ideal age for testing, so I'm just waiting until my brain develops a little more." He shook out a navy fleece blanket on his mattress and set his backpack on the floor. "I'm unpacked. Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall," Morgan said. Spencer picked up his toothbrush and toothpaste and walked out. Morgan immediately rounded on Hotch the second he was out of earshot. "This isn't just me, right? Something's not right."

Hotch's perpetual frown deepened. "He doesn't have any bedsheets, or even a pillow," he said. "No family photos. And nothing sent ahead from home. Literally...just what he could carry in his backpack."

Morgan yanked the drawer under his bed open and pulled out an extra set of sheets. They still smelled a little bit like home, and he knew his mother had folded him neatly for him. "He can borrow these," he said.

"I've got at least one extra pillow," Hotch said. "But I'm going to bring this up to Gideon in the morning."

They made quick work of covering up the bare mattress. Hotch had just set the pillow down when Spencer walked back in and stopped dead in his tracks. "Where did those come from?" he asked.

Morgan opened his mouth to answer. "They're school provided," Hotch said quickly. "So breakfast starts at eight tomorrow. Make sure you're ready. We'll go talk to Gideon afterwards." Spencer nodded. "G'night."

The door closed, and Morgan was left alone with his new roommate. Spencer quietly took off his sneakers, set them neatly on the closet floor, and sat down on his bed. He looked a little lost and dazed, his legs tucked up to his chest and his chin resting on his knees.

"Hey, don't worry," Morgan said. "St. Thaddeus is a good school. There's a lot of rules, and classes can be kind of tough, and some of the rich kids suck. But..I think you'll like it here."

"Thanks," Spencer said, not meeting his eyes. Morgan was starting to get the uneasy feeling that the kid didn't know to react when people were nice to him. "Can I go to sleep?"

"Yeah," Morgan said, a little surprised. "Yeah, that's cool. I'll be ready for bed in a second, I'll turn off the lights-"

"You can leave them on," Spencer said. He laid down, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Morgan echoed, more than a little confused.

 _I hope the rest of the school year isn't this weird,_ he thought.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS.
> 
> I was going to wait until I finished Waving Through a Window before I posted this, but I started accidentally writing drabbles in this verse on tumblr, and the next thing I knew I had a 30-chapter outline and I couldn't wait anymore.
> 
> It took me six tries to write the Spencer intro section. It changed so many times. But hopefully it worked!
> 
> Special thanks to dubuh and criminalmindsgonewrong on tumblr for taking a look at this before I posted! 
> 
> I'm on tumblr at themetaphorgirl if you'd like to chat (although I always answer comments on here too) But if you visit my tumblr, I tag all my writing with "caitlin writes things" and this verse as "AU: patron saint of lost causes." And I'm open for prompts!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think!!


	2. times are hard for dreamers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily tentatively makes friends. Spencer forges his own way. And Hotch suddenly finds himself the father of several children.

_They say times are hard for dreamers_   
_And who knows, maybe they are_   
_People seem stuck, or lost at sea_   
_And I might be a dreamer_   
_But it's gotten me this far_   
_And that is far enough for me_

_It isn't where I am  
It's only where I'll go from here  
That matters now  
And I am not afraid!  
As everything I'll ever need appears  
This is how my world gets made _

\--"Times Are Hard for Dreamers," from Amelie

* * *

"Penelope, you're sure this is the way to the dining hall?"

Penelope hesitated. "I think so," she said, looking around the courtyard. It was early enough that it was a little cool outside, but decidedly humid, and the dew in the grass was getting her shoes wet. "It's harder to tell in daylight. It was darker last night. And honestly I wasn't paying a lot of attention. Do you remember?"

JJ pulled her long hair over one shoulder. "Let's just wait for someone else to go by and follow them," she suggested.

Penelope sighed. She hadn't left her room once she'd moved in, opting to hide out in her cozy pink sanctuary and live off her snacks until she'd ventured out with JJ the night before. Now she wished she'd spent more time exploring before move-in day stated. It was a beautiful campus, all old stone buildings covered in ivy and cobblestone paths lined with trimmed rosebushes and the forest and the mountains looming outside the manicured lawns, but it was so much bigger than she had realized. _Maybe I should have kept that map after all,_ she thought.

But she brightened as she caught sight of several familiar figures crossing the opposite direction. "Oh! Let's follow them!" she said. "Hotch! Derek! Hey! We got turned around again!"

The two boys stopped and turned around; Spencer kept walking, his nose in a book, but Hotch caught him by his shirt collar and tugged him back. "Did you two seriously forget where the dining hall is already?" he asked, exasperated as Penelope jogged to catch up, JJ trailing behind her.

"In our defense, it was dark last night, and JJ wasn't paying attention," Penelope said. JJ shot her a look. "Okay, _I_ wasn't paying attention. But I'll totally remember after this."

Hotch shook his head and steered Spencer down the path, the rest of the group following close. "What are you two gonna do tomorrow when classes start?" Derek snickered. "The two of you are gonna end up wandering into all the wrong rooms."

"It's fine, Derek," Hotch said. "We can go on a campus tour later. The two of us can show the new kids around."

"Aw, man, I was gonna go for a run," Derek complained. "Football tryouts are tomorrow."

"You'll have time," Hotch said, rolling his eyes. "Schedule pickup starts at ten, and the extracurriculars fair starts at three. I'm sure we can walk around campus and leave time for you to work out in between." Spencer tripped on a rock and Hotch caught him by the back of his shirt. "Spencer, buddy, maybe now isn't a good time to read."

"I'm at a good part," Spencer objected, but he closed the book with a heavy sighed and tucked it under his arm.

Penelope craned her neck, trying to look at the title. "Whatcha reading?" she asked. He held it up. " _The Jungle_? Is that like... _The Jungle Book_?"

"Oh, I liked that movie when I was little," JJ said.

"The animated one or the new one with Bill Murray?" Derek asked.

"No, the other one, the old one from the nineties."

"It's not _The Jungle Book_ , it's just _The Jungle_ ," Spencer corrected. "By Upton Sinclair. It's a novel, but it exposes the unsanitary lack of regulation in the meat packing industry in the early 1900s. That's what helped lead Theodore Roosevelt to pass the Meat Inspecting Act and the Food and Drug Act. There's a scene where a kid dies because he got locked in a closet at his job and he gets eaten by rats."

"Okay, maybe let's not talk about people getting eaten by rats before we eat breakfast," Hotch said. He opened the door to the dining hall and Derek held it open. "Spencer, let's hold off on the book for right now. You can read later."

Penelope wrinkled her nose. "Maybe read _never_ , if it's about people getting eaten by rats," she said.

"All right, we're done, no more talking about rats at breakfast. Get in line."

Penelope picked up a tray and followed behind Derek. She wasn't much a breakfast person- back home in California she usually grabbed poptarts to eat on the bus to school- but the St. Thaddeus cafeteria looked pretty good. "Hey, Derek, save from French toast for the rest of us," she said, reaching under his arm to grab the tongs away from him.

"Hey!" he said, trying to grab it back. She held them above her head and stuck her tongue out at him.

Hotch grabbed them from her hand, picked up two pieces, and set them on Penelope's plate. "Enough," he said. "Derek, you have six pieces. I think that's enough to start."

"Fine," he grumbled.

Hotch clicked the tongs like a middle aged dad manning a grill. "JJ, do you want some?" he asked.

"I don't like French toast," JJ said. "It's too...eggy."

"So I'm guessing you don't want any scrambled eggs."

She leaned over, looking down the line at the silver pan full of fluffy yellow eggs, and recoiled. "No way," she said. "I'll just get a bagel or something."

"You can't function on just a bagel, get some fruit at least," Hotch said. He looked down. "Spencer? You need a hand?"

Spencer leaned on the rail and jumped, stretching out his little arms in attempt to get a plate off the rack. "Yeah, kinda," he huffed. 

Hotch picked up a plate and set it on his tray. "They didn't build this school with ten-year-olds in mind, I guess," he laughed. "What do you want?"

Spencer peeked over the edge of the rail. "French toast, please," he said. "With a lot of syrup."

"How much is a lot?"

"I'll tell you when."

Penelope scooped a heap of melon chunks, strawberries, and grapes onto her plate. "JJ, do you want some?" she asked.

JJ scrunched her nose. "Melon is so gross," she said. "It's like eating wet styrofoam."

"JJ. I said get some fruit," Hotch said. "Spencer, this is more than enough syrup."

"Just a little bit more…"

"Absolutely not."

JJ sighed and picked up an apple. "I guess I'll eat this," she said reluctantly.

"There's some cereal over there," Penelope suggested, nodding towards the little bar set up against the wall. "Looks like they have Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, Cinnamon Toast Crunch-" JJ immediately left the line, leaving her tray behind.

"Take the apple!" Hotch called.

"I got it, I got it," Penelope said.

Hotch shifted Spencer's plate onto his tray. "All right, keep moving, keep moving," he said. "Spencer, go get utensils for everybody, okay?" Spencer nodded and darted off through the crowd.

"Follow me, baby girl, I'll pick a table," Derek said. Penelope followed him, balancing the tray carefully. The dining hall was bustling now, students filling up the long rectangular tables and screeching their chairs on the floor. Derek picked a table on the middle right, against a wall, and set down his tray.

"Is it always this busy in here?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, just wait till tomorrow," Derek said. "I'm gonna get some juice. You want anything?"

"Ooh, yes, some chocolate milk, please," she said, twisting around in her chair. She winked. "Thanks, sweetness."

He blinked. "Did you...did you just call me _sweetness_?" he said.

"Well, if you're going to call me baby girl, I need something to call you," she said with a shrug. "I'll keep trying. Oh, and can I have a straw too please?"

He shook his head, grinning, and walked away. Spencer nearly collided with him, his hands filled with silverware. "Whoa, pretty boy, watch you're going!" Derek said. "Didn't your mama ever tell you not to run with knives?"

"No," Spencer said. "Although I guess it's pretty sensible." He stopped and scrunched up his face. "Did you just call me pretty boy?"

"I think nicknames are just his thing," Penelope said. "You'll have to come up with a name to call him."

Spencer looked Derek up and down, frowning. "Well, okay...Pudge Heffelfinger," he said slowly. He looked at Penelope. "How was that?"

"Terrible," she informed him.

"Yeah, I don't even read Harry Potter," Derek said.

Spencer tilted his head. "I don't understand," he said. "William 'Pudge' Heffelfinger was the first professional football player in 1892. I thought it would be topical, since you're interested in football."

Penelope turned to Spencer. "Honey, 1892 isn't very topical," she said. She tilted back to look at Derek. "And Derek...you're not a Hufflepuff. Definitely a Gryffindor."

"Is that good?" he asked warily.

"It can be. Go get your juice."

Spencer climbed onto the chair next to Penelope, sitting on his knees as Hotch and JJ caught up to them. "Spencer, sit on your butt or you'll fall on the floor," Hotch said. He set down Spencer's plate full of syrup in front of him, two pieces of French toast floating in the middle like tiny islands, then set an orange down next to it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked thet time. "Okay, great. We have plenty of time before pickups start."

"What are we picking up?" JJ said, shoveling cereal in her mouth before it could get too soggy.

Hotch dug into his oatmeal. "Schedules, textbooks, uniforms," he said. "The last of the important things."

Derek set down a glass of chocolate milk decked with a straw. "Here you go, baby girl," he said.

"Oh, perfect," she said, beaming up at him. "Thank you."

"Derek, can you keep the girls company while I take Spencer to Gideon's office?" Hotch asked.

Spencer paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Do I have to?" he asked.

A big glob of syrup dripped off his fork onto his shirt. JJ silently handed Penelope a napkin and she handed it to Spencer, who immediately rubbed at the drop. "Yeah, we'll just make sure everything's in order with all the stuff you missed yesterday," Hotch said. He looked up from his oatmeal. "Don't worry, I'll go with you. And you met Gideon, he's nice."

"Is he nice? He's mostly just intimidating," Derek said, his mouth full of bacon. Penelope elbowed him lightly. "Oh. Uh...yeah. He's real nice." Spencer sat back, still kneeling on the chair, and still not looking very reassured.

Penelope took a sip of her chocolate milk and cleared her throat. "So we've established that Derek is a Gryffindor," she said, attempting to change the subject. "I'm a Hufflepuff with extremely strong Ravenclaw tendencies. How about you guys?"

"Are those real words?" Hotch asked. "Or did you just make that up?"

* * *

David checked his watch as they strolled out of the dining hall. "We have another hour till pickups start," he said. "What do you guys want to do?"

Emily fiddled with the bracelets jangling on her wrists. Normally she didn't think twice about her outfits- she'd put in a lot of work to assemble her collection of rare vintage band shirts- but she had the sneaking suspicion that she stuck out like a sore thumb next to the boys in their polo shirts and shorts, and especially next to Alex in her light blue tank top and denim skirt. They looked like wholesome summer camp counselors, and she looked like a vampire that woke up too early. But...that was fine. She liked what she wore.

"I don't know," she said. "What do you guys do around here? Cell service is shit, and it's not like we can go off campus."

"Oh, we can go off campus," James assured her. "It just takes at least twenty minutes to get anywhere." Emily rolled her eyes.

Alex tightened her ponytail. "Why don't we walk around for a while?" she suggested. "Show Emily the sights."

Emily kicked at a rock; today the Doc Martens she wore were a maroon color with black laces. "The sights?" she repeated. "Back home the tourist attractions are, like...the Trevi Fountain and the Sistine Chapel. Don't get your hopes up, I may be slightly underwhelmed by a boarding school campus."

David brightened. "Wait, are you actually from Italy?" he asked, switching easily to Italian.

"Yeah, I lived in Rome for the past two years," she said. "My mom's an ambassador. We've lived all over the place. Ukraine, Japan, a couple of place in the Middle East."

"I love Rome," David said. He was clearly fluent, but there was a weird little quirk to the way he spoke. "I have family in Italy."

"Oh, really? Where?"

He took a left turn down the path and she kept up with him, Alex and James trailing behind. "Sirmione, near Milan," he said. "I've visited there every summer since I was a kid."

"Milan?" she repeated, wrinkling her nose. "Oh, that explains the accent."

"I don't have an accent!" he exclaimed. "I'm _actually_ Italian. I was born with the correct accent."

Alex slipped in between them. "Chill," she said firmly. "It's too early in the morning for a passionate Rossi argument." She spoke fluently too, but she'd clearly picked up a little bit of David's accent. She paused. "Where's James?"

David glanced back over his shoulder. "I think we lost him," he said. James was far behind them, hands in his pockets, strolling at a quarter of their speed while he gazed at his surroundings.

"He probably zoned out when we started speaking Italian," Alex said. "We've tried teaching him and he's hopelessly terrible. You think Rossi here has an accent." She cupped her hands around her mouth. "James!"

He looked up, startled, and jogged to catch up. "Sorry, I got distracted," he said. "What did I miss?"

"Um...Emily's lived in a lot of international locations, and she said Rossi has an accent," Alex said.

"I do _not_ have an accent," he grumbled under his breath.

"Regional dialect," Emily offered. She sighed deeply. "How about you guys show me those sights you were talking about."

"Absolutely," James said. "We'll give you the grand tour."

She was not interested in the sights, but they were being pretty nice to her, all things considered. Especially since the three of them had clearly been friends for a long time, and they'd accepted her pretty much immediately.

 _What would they think of you if they knew why you got sent here?_ a little voice whispered in the back of her mind, but she pushed the thought away.

"So you've already seen the main building," James was saying, gesturing broadly. "Most classes are there, and the offices. It's the oldest part of the school, it was built in around 1893. And you've seen the three dorm buildings, and the dining hall."

Emily glanced back at the paved paths lined with flowerbeds and dogwood trees. Already the main building looked small. "Jesus, this campus is bigger than I thought," she said.

"It was a work farm at one point, these were all pastures," Alex explained. "St. Thaddeus was built as an all-boys school, then became an orphanage during the Great Depression, then a work farm for juvenile delinquents in the forties and fifties. Then it became a school in the sixties."

James pointed to a little white church across the way, stained glass windows shining in the morning light- the early coolness had already faded, giving way to bright sun and humidity that crawled down Emily's neck and threatened to soak into the neckline of her black tee shirt. "That's the chapel," he said. "We have chapel every day, whether you're religious or not, so...be prepared for that."

"Oh, my school in Rome was Catholic, don't worry," she said. "Is this school Catholic?"

"Originally, but now it's just 'non-denominational'," David said. He actually used finger quotes and she had to bite back a laugh. "Catholic in name only now."

"There's the amphitheater," Alex said. "It's not used very often, but we like to do our homework over there when it's nice. You'll see- everybody on campus has their favorite places. There's lots of places to hide out here."

"For sure," James said. "My dad told me that when he went here, they used to have giant games of flashlight tag on weekends. They had stop because one kid hid in the rose garden for so long he missed class on Monday." He grinned. "That was my dad."

The paved walkway had given way to a dirt path, worn through the grass and beaten down by hundreds of footsteps. "Are we walking all the way down to the creek?" Alex asked.

"Sure, why not," David shrugged. "Emily doesn't strike me a sports person, so we might as well go there instead of the fields. Especially since we'll have to walk by them when we go to the gym for pickups."

"Yeah, not too much of a sports person," Emily said. "The creek is fine."

The farther they walked, the more overgrown the path became, long grasses swaying and catching at her jeans and snagging her skin through the purposeful rips in the fabric. Clusters of Queen Anne's lace and purple thistles bobbed cheerfully, hidden by the grass. She could hear the creek before they reached it, the soft heavy rushing of water.

"Watch your step," Alex warned. "The ground gets a little softer here."

Emily had spent her entire childhood visiting museums and historic landmarks with polished floors and playing in private parks so well-designed it was almost impossible to get dirty. She wasn't quite prepared for the sight of the creek- wider than she expected, with a slight drop off of the bank and smooth rocks scattered on either side. Tall Tennessee oaks lined the sides, growing thicker on the opposite bank until they stood so close that the distance looked like a single mass of dark green foliage.

"It's no Trevi Fountain, but it's pretty nice," James said.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it's nice."

"A lot of the freshmen kids like to come down here and go crawdaddin'," Alex said.

Emily made a face. "What in the fresh hell is that?" she said.

"They catch crawdads," David explained.

"Kind of like little baby lobsters," James added helpfully.

Emily drew back, the pretty creek suddenly losing some of its allure. "Yeah, no, that sounds disgusting," she said, keeping her Doc Martens away from a particuarly wet patch of dirt. She paused, a silver glint catching her eye. "What's that?"

James followed her gaze. "Oh, that's the electric fence," he said.

"The electric _what?"_

"It's a safety precaution," James explained. "The creek marks the boundary of the campus, and they don't want us going out into the forest. Sometimes the orienteering club is allowed to go out there on trips, but never after dark, and they always have like ten teachers and the security team with them."

"The security team?" Emily said. "What the hell kind of school is this?"

"It's to keep us safe," Alex began, but David interrupted her.

"It's to keep the Lincoln House kids in line," he said. He picked up a rock and skipped into the creek; it bounced twice before sink with a wet plop. "The charity cases."

"They're not charity cases," Alex said. She sounded weary, as if this argument had already happened in circles a million times before. "And they're not bad kids.”

"Listen, Emily, the Lincoln House kids get placed there because they're troubled," David said. "And don't argue with me on that one, Alexandra, that's literally on the application form." He picked up another rock and chucked; it made half a skip before sinking in the water. "They're kids that were getting in trouble or acting out at their old schools, but their testing scores were high enough to get them into St. Thaddeus. That's the goal, try to get those bad kids- don't give me that look, Alexandra- get those bad kids on the right path."

James tossed a rock and it skipped four times, hopping across the water until it hit the shallows on the other side. "Alex is right, though, a lot of those Lincoln House kids are good kids that got stuck in bad situations," he said. "And they're not all charity cases. A lot of parents pay a lot of money to get their kids in St. Thaddeus so they can get their heads on straight."

"Yeah, but you know that that's where all the scholarships go," David said. "And Lincoln House-"

"Hey! You're not supposed to be out this far!"

Emily jumped. A man in a white shirt was striding towards them through the tall grass. To her surprise, David waved at him.

"Hey, Marty," he called.

The man in the white shirt approached them, but he was smiling. "Hey, David," he said. "Good to see you, kid." He nodded to the others. "Hey James, Alex. And who's this?"

"Emily Prentiss," James said. "She's new this year, a junior."

"Yeah, she's my new roommate," Alex said, shielding her eyes from the sun.

The man held out his hand; after a moment Emily shook it. "Hey, Emily, nice to meet you," he said. "I'm Marty Bennett. I'm on the security team here. Welcome to St. Thaddeus."

"Thanks," she said.

Marty took a step back, squinting. "You showing her around?" he asked. David nodded. "Yeah, it's real pretty out here. Just remember, don't go past the creek, okay?" He looked at his watch. "You kids should probably head to pickups, it's just about time."

"Oh, shit!" David said. "Yeah, we should go. Good to see you, Marty."

"You want a ride? I got the pargo."

"Yeah!" James said. "Let's go!"

Emily followed them back towards the grass-lined path; a golf cart emblazoned with the St. Thaddeus emblem was parked nearby. She sat down in the back, propping the heels of her boots against the bumper, and held tight to the side as the pargo rumbled and jumped over the uneven ground, away from the creek and the woods, back to the paved roads and the neat school buildings.

* * *

Spencer hated getting sent to the office.

It didn't matter if it was Summerlin Elementary, or Copper Creek Middle School, or the apparent relative safety of the head of house. He was a _good student_ , and even though logically he knew that getting sent to the office didn't necessarily mean he was in trouble, he couldn't shake the little kid belief that he was automatically in trouble.

The lobby of Lincoln House was painfully quiet and almost a little bit too cold, the plugged-in air freshener scent pumping too strongly into the room. No students were left to offer conversation and the TV playing a sitcom rerun was muted.

His shoes made little squeaks on the hardwood floor as he struggled to keep up with Hotch's long strides. The sneakers were a little too small and a little too tight, making it even harder to walk fast.

"See how the light's on?" Hotch said, pointing at a sconce next to the door. "Gideon always has that on if he's free for students to come in and talk to him. He's really nice, you'll see."

He rapped smartly on the door. "Come in," a voice called.

Hotch opened the door and gently ushered Spencer inside. Jason Gideon sat behind the old-fashioned wooden desk; he'd swapped yesterday's burgundy sweater for a navy one today, and half-moon reading glasses balanced on his nose. "Hey, Hotch," he said. He tilted his chin to look down at Hotch from under his lenses. "How can I help you?"

"You wanted to bring Spencer Reid back so you can get the rest of his orientation paperwork done," Hotch said.

Gideon took off his glasses, his expression relaxing into a smile as he noticed Spencer half-hidden behind Hotch. "Oh yes, Mr. Reid," he said. "Take a seat. We'll get this straightened out."

Spencer sat down on the indicated chair, sliding around on the slick leather seat. His feet didn't touch the ground. Hotch took the chair next to him, but he was tall for sixteen and looked almost like an adult in comparison.

Gideon typed something on his keyboard and frowned at the screen. "Sorry, this might take a second," he said. "These damn computers."

Spencer fidgeted. One of his shoes had fallen untied, the dirty laces flopping to the floor, and he wiggled around until he could reach it and tie it back in place. The printer chugged to life behind Gideon's desk, spitting out pages, and he picked up a red file folder.

"All right, I think I've gotten this straightened out," he said, spreading the file open on his desk. "I've got the welcome packet you should have gotten yesterday, so that will have a lot of the information you'll need for this afternoon." He handed over a red keychain with a silver key and a black fob. "You'll need these too."

Hotch took the key from Gideon and handed it to Spencer. "What about his ID?" he said.

"I'll call ahead and see if someone can open up the office," Gideon said. "Most likely you can bring him by after pickups, it shouldn't take long for them to take his photo and print it out." He flipped through the pages in the file and frowned. "That should be just about everything. Although...Hotch, can you step out in the hallway for a moment?"

"Sure," he said, unfolding from the chair. "Do you mind if I talk to you alone when you're done?"

"Of course," Gideon said.

Hotch left, the door clicking shut behind him, and Spencer's stomach twisted. He suddenly regretted eating so much sugar for breakfast; the sweet aftertaste in his mouth turned sour. Gideon put his reading glasses back on and rifled through the papers in the file. He had an old-fashioned green lamp on his desk that cast a faint seasick shadow.

At last Gideon looked up. "There's some gaps in your paperwork," he said.

This was what he was afraid of. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

"Now, don't worry. Your application was all filled out correctly, your transcripts are all in order, your testing more than qualifies you to be here," Gideon said. "And you were accepted for a full ride scholarship, there's no issues with that."

Some of the tension drained from his small body. He'd worked so hard to get here- researching on the ancient library computer, filling out the application with the correct black ink and trying desperately to print neatly in his childish handwriting, convincing the school secretary to print out his transcript and his records and folding the fat stack of papers into an envelope to be mailed.

But Gideon folded his hands on his desk, fixing Spencer with his serious gaze, and his stomach dropped again. "Your paperwork is missing parental signatures," he said. "And I understand that neither your mother nor your father have responded to the letters and phone calls from the admission department."

"No, sir," he said, his throat dry. This was it. He was going to get shipped back to Las Vegas.

"Now, since I'm your head of house, I can sign your paperwork _in loco parentis,_ " Gideon said. "Do you know what that means?"

He nodded. "In place of a parent."

"If you consent to that, I'll be considered your legal guardian for this semester," Gideon said. "It's a loophole we have here in Lincoln House. You're not the first student to have issues with their paperwork. I'll be able to approve things for you in the duration. But we'll need to get in contact before the semester ends. You understand?"

"Yes sir," he said eagerly, relief flooding his veins. "Thank you."

Gideon smiled and scribbled his signature, flipping pages in Spencer's file to find each marked line. "We'll figure it out," he said. "We need to keep someone as brilliant as you around here. Looking at your transcript, you might even be a child prodigy."

"Actually, a child prodigy is under the age of ten," Spencer said. "I'll be eleven in October so I've aged out."

Gideon laughed. "I stand corrected," he said. He handed Spencer the red welcome packet folder. "Welcome to St. Thaddeus, Mr. Reid. Send Hotch in, all right?"

Spencer nodded and slid off the chair, clutching the folder in one hand and his new keys in the other. Hotch was waiting in the hall, fiddling on his phone. "Mr. Gideon's ready for you," he said.

"Thanks," Hotch said. "Everything okay?" Spencer nodded. "Good. Wait out here for me, we'll catch up with Derek and the girls when I'm done."

Spencer sat down on the floor as the office door closed behind Hotch, flipping through the orientation papers he had missed out on the day before. His relief was so palpable that he couldn't stop jiggling his legs with nervous energy, drumming his heels against the hardwood floor.

 _Of course, you have to get your parents' attention before the end of the semester_ , a little voice whispered in the back of his brain, but he rolled his shoulders, physically forcing the thought away. He had four months to figure something out. That was plenty of time. And in the meantime, he'd made it. Months of planning and scheming and hiding, all paying off.

The door swung open and Hotch walked out, straightening out the hem of his red tee shirt. "All right, kid, you ready to go?" he said. Spencer scrambled to his feet, nearly dropping the folder and spilling the pages, but Hotch caught them easily and tucked the folder under his arm.

The heat and humidity outside shocked his system as they walked outside. Spencer looped his fingers through his keychain and spun the keys around. "So I talked to Gideon," Hotch began. "It turns out there was a mistake with your scholarship. Did you know it came with a stipend for your flex account?"

The keychain flew off Spencer's finger and landed in a patch of azaleas; he scrambled to pick it up. "Really?" he said.

"Yeah," Hotch said. "It, uh, hadn't processed yet. Twenty-five dollars a week. So once you have your ID, you can use it to buy stuff in the campus store."

Spencer's jaw dropped. "Really?" he said.

"Yeah, and you can buy gift cards at the store too, so you can use those to buy stuff in town too," Hotch said.

Spencer beamed. "I didn't read that anywhere in the scholarship descriptions!" he said. "That's amazing."

"I'm pretty sure it was in the description."

"No, I'd remember," Spencer said. "I have an eidetic memory.”

"Is that the same as a photographic memory?"

"Kind of, but not really," Spencer said. "Photographic memory is limited to just remembering words on a page, typically for a short amount of time. Eidetic memory includes physical images. And memories. Although, realistically, I remember things best if they're spoken to me."

Hotch laughed. "You really are a genius, aren't you?" he said.

"Possibly," Spencer said.

They were heading towards a part of campus that he hadn't seen yet- a soccer field, a baseball diamond, a running track. Hotch caught Spencer's wide-eyed stare. "The football field is that way," he said, pointing down the hill. "We're just going to the gym."

Back home in Vegas, the gym at his middle school was barely regulation size, the painted lines on the floor well-scuffed and the scoreboard half-burnt out. The gym at St. Thaddeus was brightly lit, with blue bleacher seats and banners celebrating basketball and volleyball wins, and the air smelled faintly like a fresh coat of paint. Conversations bounced and echoed off the cavernous walls as hundreds of students milled around.

"Hey, come on, stick with me or you'll get lost," Hotch said. He hesitated. "Want to hold my hand?"

 _Our hands carry 3,200 bacteria from 150 different species,_ he wanted to say, his usual response when someone tried to shake his hand. But that was he said to strangers, and Hotch wasn't a stranger, and the crowd was noisy and everyone was so much taller than him, so he tentatively placed his small hand in Hotch's.

That turned out to be the right idea. Hotch was tall- a little over six feet, if he guessed correctly- and taller than most of the other high school kids in the crowd, so Spencer followed in his wake.

Derek, Penelope, and JJ were standing by the far wall, waiting for them. "How'd it go with Gideon?" Derek asked.

"Great," Hotch said. He tugged Spencer forward, placing him in the middle of their group, and let go of his hand. "You guys ready?"

Penelope clapped her hands. "I'm so excited to get my uniform!" she said. "I hope it's cute. I think I'll be cute."

"How does this work?" JJ asked.

"Just follow the line," Derek said. "It all goes in order. But schedules first."

Hotch took Spencer's hand again, keeping him from getting lost in the shuffle as they made their way up to the first table; the bigger kids crowded in front and he couldn't see. "How's your last name spelled?" Hotch asked.

"R-E-I-D."

After a moment a paper was placed in his hands and he smiled as he read over his schedule of new classes. If his old teachers had had their way, he'd be starting fifth grade, reading middle-grade chapter books and working on long division, sitting alone in the bathroom to eat lunch.

His grin widened and he held his new schedule tightly, already looking forward to the moment they handed him his new textbooks.

* * *

David took the black garment bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "You're not going to check it?" Alex said.

"Nah, I'm sure it's fine," he said. "And if it's not, I still have last year's."

"Yeah, mine don't fit me anymore," James said. He unzipped his bag partially and peered inside. "I tried on last year's pants. Three inches over my ankle. I look like a nerd from a nineties sitcom."

Alex laughed. "I need to see that," she said. "I'm sure you still look fine."

She turned to pick up her uniform, completely missing the dopey grin that spread across James's face as he gazed at her. David elbowed him lightly, smirking, and James jumped. "I just need a new blazer," she said. "My brother decided to wash mine when I got home for the summer and it died a horrible, horrible death. He put it in the dryer."

"Which brother, Scotty or Danny?" James asked.

"Danny," she said, rolling her eyes. "At least he was trying to helpful. Scotty couldn't do laundry if you paid him."

"You have brothers?" Emily asked.

Alex unzipped her garment bag and checked for the pieces- white button up shirts, red plaid skirts, navy blazer with gold buttons, a tie. "Yeah, two," she said. "I'm the middle and the only girl, and they never let me forget it." She zipped the bag up. "Don't tell me you're an only child like these two."

"Guilty," Emily shrugged. She accepted the black garment bag tagged with her name. "So...how strict are they about the dress code here?"

Alex hesitated, clearly searching for something diplomatic to say. "You're fucked," David said bluntly. Alex nudged him. "You know I'm right, Alexandra."

Emily made a face. "Seriously?" she whined.

David looked her up and down- cobalt blue streaks in her dark hair, black liquid liner in an exaggerated line and black lipstick on her mouth, bracelets jangling on her wrists, artfully ripped jeans that might have cost a fortune and a black tour tee shirt from a band he'd never heard of.

"Yeah, you're fucked," Alex admitted. "We're only allowed minimal makeup and earrings- small ones. Your boots might be okay, but not in that color. And...sorry, but they're not going to like the blue in your hair."

"Shit," Emily said. "That sucks."

"I'll help you dye your hair," Alex offered. "I need to touch mine up anyway." She flipped her ponytail. "The auburn is fake, but I get away with it because it looks natural."

"I like your brown hair," James said.

"Yeah, but it's boring," Alex said.

David shouldered his garment bag and picked up his bag of textbooks. "Hey, tell you what, let's go into town," he said. "We can go pick up hair dye for you two. And I'm in the mood to eat lunch off campus."

"Will we be back in time for extracurricular signups?" James asked.

"Of course," David said. James still looked hesitant. "It'll be my treat."

"In that case, let's go."

It sucked that the massive parking lot was so far away, in front of the main building and flanking the broad circle drive, but they stopped long enough for the girls to drop off their things at Roosevelt House and made the trek out to his car.

David clicked his remote; his black Honda CR-V beeped happily. "All right, a couple rules," he he said as he opened the hatchback and wrestled his stuff inside. "No eating in the car. No shoes on the seats or the dashboard in the car. Driver picks the music in the car."

James tossed his books and uniform bag in the car. "You always drive," he objected.

"Exactly," David said, closing the hatchback. "Come on, let's go."

He turned on the AC full blast and connected the bluetooth to his phone as soon as he got into the car; James took shotgun and the girls picked their seats in the back. He made the twenty minute drive to and from campus and his house most of the time- James typically opted to spend nights on campus in Kennedy House and go home on the weekends, but then again James lived in the boondocks, a solid hour from campus, and his sedan wasn't exactly the most reliable vehicle.

The road to town was peaceful, winding roads through mountains and trees, and he hummed along with his music as he drove. "So what's this town like?" Emily asked, leaning forward and leaning on the back of Alex's seat. "I wasn't really paying attention yesterday."

"Another Rossi rule: seatbelts," he said, looking at her pointedly in his rearview mirror. She sank back and buckled her seatbelt. "Auden's Ridge is nice. It's no thriving metropolis, but there's lots of places to shop and it's easy to walk around. They're used to seeing schoolkids everywhere."

"Especially on Saturdays, they'll bus the boading kids without cars into town so they can shop," Alex said.

"So where are we stopping first?" David asked, making the turn off the winding road onto the broader street towards town. "Target?"

"We're not using box dyes, David."

"Yeah, David, what were you thinking?" Emily said, grinning at Alex, and they laughed.

"Fine, fine, just tell me where to go," he huffed.

Alex directed him to a shopping plaza and he parked in front of a beauty supply store. He and James waited in the air conditioned car, playing on their phones now that they had better signal while the girls ran inside. They returned in short order with a bag each, beaming.

"Holy shit, how much stuff do you guys need to dye your hair?" David said.

"It's a process," Alex said. "Literally."

He pulled out of the parking spot. "So who else wants to go to Sonic?" he asked.

"Oh, god, yes, please," James said.

"What's Sonic?" Emily asked.

Alex twisted around to look at her, the seatbelt twisting with her. "Okay, question," she said. "How much time have you actually spent in America?"

Emily shrugged. "Lots of trips to New York and DC with my mom on business," she said. "And visiting my grandmother in Wisconsin."

"Oh, okay, so that makes sense," James said. "Listen. Sonic is great. Your life will be changed. We go here all the time."

Alex leaned forward and poked James in the elbow. "James, we need to take her to Cracker Barrel," she said.

"Oh, god, yeah."

"Okay, now you guys are speaking a different language," Emily complained, and James laughed.

David parked in an open space at the restaurant and they climbed out, taking over one of the red picnic tables under the overhang. He and James ordered first; Emily stared in confusion at the brightly colored menu.

"Oh, hang on, I left my phone in the car," Alex said. "I'll be right back."

As soon as she was out of hearing distance Emily turned to James. "So how long have you been pining after her?" she asked.

James choked. "I don't...what...uh…"

"Ninth grade," David informed her. "He's been pining after Alexandra Miller for almost four yeras now. And has he asked her out? Not once. Not even to a school dance. Not even prom last year. He went alone."

"You guys really have prom?" Emily said. "I thought that was only in movies."

"What about prom?" Alex asked, catching up to them with her phone in her hand. "God, I don't even want to think about prom yet. Let's get through midterms first." She checked her phone, then dropped it in her skirt pocket. "Have you ordered yet, Emily?"

"No offense, but some of these food items sound extremely fake," she said.

Alex laughed. "Here, I'll help you figure it out," she said.

David sat down at the red table across from James and leaned forward conspiratorially. "You know you need to ask Alex out at some point in this school year," he whispered. "You've been putting off way too long."

James turned red. "I know," he whispered back. "But I've still got time."

David grinned. "Let's make this a little easier," he said. "The homecoming dance, in October. If you can ask Alex out, and she says yes, I'll give you a hundred bucks. If you don't ask her out...you have to wash my car once a week for the rest of the year."

"What if I ask her and she says no?" James asked.

David looked over at Alex, sunlight glinting on her red hair as she said something that made Emily laugh. "I have a funny feeling she won't say no," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY Y'ALL I'M BACK AGAIN!
> 
> So this fic was supposed to be thirty chapters of pure angst...but...here we are. So there's still an outline and an endgame, but it's definitely going to be longer and have a lot of cute stuff. 
> 
> (But also a lot of angst.)
> 
> I am SO excited by how much people like this idea!! I'm really active on tumblr right now (themetaphorgirl) and I've got a whole page just about the boarding school babes if you want to read more about them!
> 
> But yeah. Wow, I am having a great time.
> 
> This fic will be updated on Thursdays, so stay tuned! And let me know what you think!


	3. the fire in your heart is out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is oblivious, Penelope overschedules herself, Hotch might have Lyme disease, and Emily makes changes

_Backbeat, the word was on the street_   
_That the fire in your heart is out_   
_I'm sure you've heard it all before_   
_But you never really had a doubt_   
_I don't believe that anybody_   
_Feels the way I do about you now_

\--"Wonderwall" by Oasis

Alex tucked her hair behind her ear as she fitted her gold key in the lock of the library door. It made a satisfying click, and after some resistance the tall heavy door swung open. She flicked on the lights and smiled.

The library was in the oldest part of the main building, tucked away in the east wing. She loved it- the tall iron-framed glass windows, the vaulted ceilings, the paneled walls. And the books- shelves and shelves and shelves of books. When she was a little girl growing up in Kansas, her library was in a strip mall next to the post office, with flickering fluorescent lights and the scent of envelope glue. The first time she stepped into the St. Thaddeus library she nearly stopped breathing.

Her steps were quiet on the hardwood floors and she hummed lightly under her breath. She loved having the entire library all to herself, it was one of the best parts of working there. It was her third year as a student librarian- her last year, but she didn't want to think about that.

She stepped behind the broad circulation desk and unlocked the office door. It was dark and the AC was even colder inside, the air slightly musty from a summer closed up. She fumbled in the dark to turn on the lamp over her desk. Her nameplate from the year before was still tacked up but the rest of the desk was bare.

She set her tote bag down, still singing quietly under her breath as she unpacked knickknacks and a mason jar full of brightly colored pens. The larger picture frame with the photo of her parents and her two older brothers she propped up in one corner; the smaller one of her with David and James she hung up on on her memo board.

It had been her mother's idea to send her to St. Thaddeus. Her dad didn't want her to go. More than a few times during her eighth grade year she stayed up to sit on the staircase, leaning against the banister, and listen to them argue.

" _I don't know why you want to send her away."_

" _We're not sending her away, we're giving her a better opportunity."_

" _Why does she need a better opportunity? Her brothers both went to the high school here, they've turned out just fine."_

" _Danny and Scotty have wanted to follow in your footsteps since they were babies. They've never wanted to leave this town. But she...she's so_ smart _, she's-"_

" _So are her brothers!"_

" _Yes, but...she needs to get out of here. She has bigger dreams than them. Than us. We need to give her a chance."_

Her dad had finally asked her about it, one morning at breakfast. He walked into the kitchen, holding the stack of brightly colored brochures her mother had collected for different boarding schools across the country, and set them down beside her cereal bowl.

"So," he had said quietly. "You want to go, Lexy?"

She did. She did want to go. And she chose St. Thaddeus School, because they had half a dozen languages classes, and that's what she wanted. She didn't want the half-hearted Spanish class at the local high school, the only class they offered, where she could learn that _gato_ meant cat and _perro_ meant dog and fill out painfully simple worksheets, when she wanted to actually speak the language, understand it. For so long she'd tried to teach herself languages on her own, checking out outdated books on tape from the local library and draining the batteries on her mother's elderly walkman, trying to speak new languages when she had no one to talk to.

But then, of course, the discussion turned from _why should we send her away for school_ to _how can we afford to send her to school._ She took care of that. She interrupted another midnight argument, stomping down the stairs in her pajamas, and dropped the letters on the table between them, and they jumped like she'd thrown a hand grenade.

"I got a scholarship," she had informed them. "It's only a partial, but it's at least half. And I'm going to work a job on campus. It won't be a lot, but that way you won't have to worry about giving me spending money."

They'd been surprised, like she thought they would be, and upset, which she hadn't expected. But it made sense, eventually. She was their youngest, their only girl. Her father had been the chief of police in their small town since before she was born, and he'd gotten it into his head that she needed to protected and provided for without any input of her own.

But she'd set her mind to it, and they knew they couldn't convince Alexandra Miller of anything when her mind was made up, and she started ninth grade at St. Thaddeus in the fall. She immediately dyed her long plain brown hair a flame-tinted auburn and asked everyone to call her Alex, and she took three language classes that first year, she was assigned to work as a student librarian.

She'd spent the past three years living in the library, taking careful care of her books, helping frantic students research for essays and projects they'd forgotten about, recommending novels to homesick kids who needed a distraction. This would be her last year as a guardian angel in her library, and it was bittersweet.

She rearranged the knicknacks on her desk and ran her hand over the pens in the jar to shake them up. Her gold nameplate looked a little dull; she brushed a summer's worth of dust away to make it shine again.

"What are you singing?"

She jumped, toppling over the jar of pens. "Oh my god!" she said.

"Sorry, sorry," James said sheepishly. "You forgot your phone, and since Emily said you weren't in your room I figured you'd be here."

"Oh my god," she sighed as he held out her phone. "I've been so distracted. Thanks for bringing it back to me."

He grinned and righted the glass jar. "No problem," he said as he dropped the pens back inside one by one. "You need a hand with anything? Other than the things I destroyed."

"No, I'm good," she said, laughing. She adjusted the larger photo frame. "I probably could have done this tomorrow, but...I don't know. I kind of missed this place."

"Yeah, this is your natural habitat," he said. He sat down on the supervisor's desk and leaned his elbows on his knees. "It's crazy that it's our senior year, huh?"

"Yeah, it is," she said. She pulled herself up to sit on the desk beside him. "One year to go, and then we're off to college." She nudged him lightly. "How's your applications going?"

"Good," he sighed. "I guess. I've got a dream college...and a backup…and a realistic choice." He shrugged. "Technically I could be pre-med anywhere, though."

"Oh, you'll get into a great school," she reassured him. "And then a great medical school, and then you'll be an amazing doctor."

He smiled at her. "And you'll learn all the languages you can possibly find," he said.

"I mean, I can try," she laughed. "That might be impossible, though."

"If anyone could do it, it'd be you," he said.

She almost laughed, but he was so earnest, smiling at her like she was sunshine after a storm. "I can try," she said again instead, turning her phone around in her hands. "And hey, who knows. Maybe we'll end up at the same college."

He cleared his throat, turning towards her, their knees touching. "You know, Alex, I was thinking-"

Her phone vibrated, incredibly loud in the quiet room. "Oh, shit," she said, checking her lockscreen. "David's waiting for us." She hopped down from the desk. "We'd better go, I had no idea how late it was." She flipped off her desk lamp and waited for James to follow her. "Good thing you brought me my phone, huh?"

* * *

Penelope beamed as she looked out over the crowded courtyard, lit by streetlamps and strings of twinkle lights as the late summer sun started to set. There were booths as far as the eye could see, decorated with balloons and handmade posterboard signs, all advertising for different clubs and sports teams and activities.

"There's so many options," JJ remarked.

"And I'm going to sign up for as many as possible," Penelope said gleefully, rocking up on her toes. "Come on, let's go!"

"Do I have to be here?" Spencer asked. "Can't I just go back to the dorms?"

"This shouldn't take too long," Hotch said. "We'll go do signups, and then we'll go get ice cream at the student union. Deal?"

Spencer sighed. "Deal, I guess," he said.

"Come on, let's start with sports," Derek said, grabbing Penelope's hand. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

"Jesus, Morgan, it's just signups, you're not late for tryouts," she laughed.

"Yeah, but I've got to make a good impression," he said. He slowed down, letting her catch up with him. "See, last year I didn't make varsity. I was stuck playing JV. _This_ year I'm gonna make varsity."

"Of course you will," she said.

He grinned. "I appreciate your confidence, baby girl," he said. "Hotch doesn't think I'll make it."

"Why?" she said, scowling.

Derek glanced back over his shoulder at Hotch and Spencer trailing behind them in the crowd. "Lincoln kids don't usually make it on varsity," he said. "And definitely not as a sophomore."

Penelope linked her arm through his. "Well, I'm positive you'll make it this year," she said.

She marched him up to the football table, but his resolve seemed to waver the closer he got. The man behind the table glanced up as he approached. "Morgan, good to see you," he said. "Signing up?"

"Uh...yeah," Derek said. Penelope frowned. He was acting shy, and that didn't seem right. Granted, she'd only known him two days, but it still didn't seem right.

"He's going to try out for varsity," she announced

The coach laughed. "Yeah, yeah, we'll see," he said. He handed Derek the clipboard. "Go on, sign up for tryouts."

Morgan took it reluctantly and looked around for a pen. Penelope took a purple sharpie out of her pocket and handed it to him. "Really?" he said. She shrugged, and he signed his name anyway.

"We'll see you on the field tomorrow, Morgan," the coach said. "Three-thirty sharp. Earlier if you want to meet the new coaching team."

"Yes, sir," Derek said. He handed the clipboard back. "Thank you."

He walked away fast from the table, blowing out a relieved exhalation. "That guy is scary," Penelope said. "You want to be on a football team with him?"

Derek rolled his shoulders. "Yeah, I don't really have a choice," he said. "Whew. At least it's done." He looked around. "All right...there's Hotch and Spencer, sitting around waiting. Where's JJ?"

Penelope looked around, turning herself in a complete circle. "Oh! There she is!"

JJ was easy to spot in her pink top and her long blonde hair pulled over one shoulder, staring thoutghtfully at a poster. Penelope grabbed Derek's hand to catch up. "Hey! Jayje!" she called.

She didn't turn around, and didn't seem to notice either of them until they were right next to her. "Oh, hey," she said. "What are you two doing?"

"Signing Derek up for football," Penelope said. She tilted her head back to look at the booth. "Oh, you're going to sign up for soccer? I didn't know you played."

JJ looked up at the neon pink poster with black bubble letters and soccer ball stickers. "I don't," she said. "But I do now, I think." She picked up the clipboard and signed her name on the list in neat scratchy cursive. "Or at least...I'll try out and see what happens."

Penelope clapped her hands. "Yes! I've always wanted athletic friends!" she said. "I'll come to all your games."

"What about you, baby girl?" Derek asked. "Are you signing up for sports?"

She dropped her hands on her hips. "Are you kidding?" she said. "I don't run. I wasn't built for it. And way too many sports require running." She scanned the aisle of sports booths- basketball, baseball, field hockey- and caught sight of a couple of senior girls in identical navy tee shirts with gold lettering, their hair tied back with big perfectly tied bows. "Oh! But I have thought about cheerleading."

Derek shook his head. "Nah, you wouldn't like that," he said. "They run laps before every practice."

She wrinkled her nose, making her glasses slide around. "Ugh, never mind," she said. "So what else are you signing up for?"

"Just football," he said with a broad grin. "I gotta show them I'm committed, I don't want any conflicts."

Penelope turned to JJ. "What about you, Jayje? Just soccer?"

She shrugged. "Volleyball too," she said. "Maybe model UN, I don't know."

"Ooh, model UN, I hadn't thought of that!" Penelope said. She tugged her pink sequined backpack off her shoulder and dug around for her new student folder. "No, I missed it! Quick, Derek, do you still have my sharpie?" He handed it over and she circled it in purple marker, the ink smearing a little bit under her palm. "Perfect."

"Hey, guys," Hotch called, tugging Spencer along with him through the crowd. "How's it going?"

"I'm good," Derek said. "I don't think Penelope is, though."

She unfurled the brochure. "I have a _list_ ," she said proudly.

JJ laughed. "I was going to look around a little bit more too," she said.

Hotch sighed. "Well, Spencer's getting antsy," he said. "I think the crowd is making him a little stressed.”

”I’m not stressed, I just don’t like crowds. My face is elbow height on most people,” Spencer added. 

“Derek, can you take him to the student union? I'll stay with the girls and we'll meet you when you're done. I'm just worried about him."

"Yeah, I can watch the kid," he said. "You guys have fun. Penelope...don't sign up for everything, baby girl. You won't survive the school year."

"I make no promises!" she said cheerfully.

Hotch stuck his hands in his back pockets as Derek walked Spencer out of the crowded courtyard. "All right, so what next?" he said.

"I don't know, Penelope's the one with the list," JJ said.

Penelope held the brochure up and squinted in the fading late afternoon light; the glossy paper was creased white at the foldlines. "I'm not sure," she said. "Let's just wander! I might change my mind on a few things."

"Well, lead the way, then," Hotch said. He glanced around at the sports booths and the corner of his mouth tugged down.

"What about you?" Penelope asked. "You seem like...a basketball player. Did I get it?" She scrunched up her nose. "No, wait. Baseball? Baseball."

Hotch laughed. "Yeah, you got it, actually," he said. "I used to play baseball when I was a kid. I don't have the time for time for it anymore. But let's go ahead and get this taken care of, okay?"

"All right, all right, I can take the hint," she said.

She navigated the courtyard with Hotch and JJ trailing behind her, scrutinizing each booth as she passed by. This was what she'd been waiting for all summer, after she was informed she was getting sent to boarding school.

There hadn't been any discussion or other options. It was decided whether she liked it or not. She had spent a week moping and feeling horribly sorry for herself. There had been too much change in her life over the past two years, and she _did not like change._

But things were going to change whether she liked them or not, and slowly she came around to the idea, especially when the shiny new info packets started to arrive, and she started to plan her new school year. Because that was what she did when things felt out of control- she made plans and made the changes her own.

She'd spent the past few months poring over all the new information and planning ahead. The extracurriculars brochure was covered in her sharpie marks, picking out her new future. A whole new world had opened up for her, away from her sleepy California suburb and her grandparents' smothering rules, and she was going to get everything out of it that she could.

"Hey, there's the model UN table," JJ said. "Do you want to go sign up?"

"Yes!" she said. "Absolutely!"

She hadn't thought about joining model UN, it seemed like way too many rules to follow, but if JJ was going to sign up, she would too. Any amount of rules would be worth it if she could spend time with new friends. She hadn't had many of those in California, especially once she had to leave San Francisco and live with her grandparents.

"Have you done model UN before?" Penelope asked as JJ signed her name. "I have no idea how it works."

"I haven't, but my sister did when she was in high school," JJ said, handing her the clipboard.

Penelope signed her name in bright purple. "Oh, did she like it?"

"Uh-huh," JJ said. "Oh, look, there's a debate team. I think you'd be good at that."

"You know me so well already!" Penelope said. "Oh, yeah, I'm going to try this too."

She darted over and reached for the list, but someone stretched around her and picked it up first. "Hey!" she protested.

She turned around to see two upperclassman girls behind her; the one holding the clipboard had dark hair streaked heavily with bright cobalt blue and she was dressed like she was going to a concert in an underground venue rather than a prep school. "Sorry, kid, just a second," she said.

The other girl sighed. "Sorry about Emily, she's been walking in circles trying to pick something and this is the first thing that she finally agreed to do," she said.

"Listen, Ambassador Prentiss said I was required to sign up for one extracurricular activity, and if I have to spend a couple of hours a week in a stupid club, I might as well spend it arguing," Emily said. She held out the clipboard. "Here you go. Need a pen?"

"I brought my own," Penelope said. "Also, I am in _love_ with your hair."

"Thanks," Emily said. "And I like your...pink glasses."

"Thank you!" she said. "I have glasses in like, every color. Contacts are the worst, but I'm completely blind without them, like Vema from Scooby Doo blind, so if I have to wear glasses they might as well be cute."

Emily laughed. "Yeah, you've got a point, I guess," she said. "See you at debate club, I guess."

"Yeah!" Penelope said. "I'll see you soon!" She turned to JJ. "I'm making friends everywhere!"

"You do seem have a knack for that," JJ said, smiling, and Penelope beamed.

* * *

"Penelope, you can't sign up for everything," Hotch sighed.

She turned herself around in circles. "Okay, okay, just _one_ more," she pleaded.

"That's what you said twenty minutes ago," JJ said.

"No, really, this is the _last_ one, I swear," Penelope said. "It's the last one, right over there. It'll take two seconds."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Hotch called as he trailed behind her. "God, is she alway energetic?"

"As far as I can tell...this is just the tip of the iceberg," JJ said, but she laughed.

He probably could have let them wander on their own- they weren't even his actual responsibility, they didn't live on his floor- but they were only freshmen, and he couldn't leave them on their own. He still remembered his first semester, getting himself hopelessly lost on the vast campus and eating lunch alone because he couldn't find friends. He didn't want other kids to deal with that, not if he could help it.

And besides, he had already taken on Derek and Spencer. He could add two little freshmen girls. But that was enough responsibility, he didn't need to add anybody else.

"There!" Penelope said. "This is the last one, for sure, I promise, cross my heart and hope to die. This is the most important one."

"Theatre club?" JJ said. "You know...I feel like I should have guessed it."

"St. Thaddeus has a _great_ theatre program," Penelope said. "Especially musical theatre. Do you guys want to sign up with me?"

JJ shrugged. "I don't think so," she said. "I'm not much of a...musical theatre person."

"What about you, Hotch?" Penelope asked.

"Me?" he said. "Is there anything about me that screams 'this guy does musical theatre'?"

"Well, I don't like to make assumptions," Penelope said. "You could surprise me."

A girl in a theatre club tee shirt stepped out from behind the table. "Hi, do you guys want to sign up?" she asked. "We're filling up fast, but we still have some slots left."

His stomach unexpectedly backflipped. Penelope launched into a conversation as if she'd known the girl her entire life, but he was sure he couldn't speak even if someone paid him. Maybe he had food poisoning

"Oh, Penelope, that's a pretty name," the girl said, looking at the purple signature. "I'm Haley. Are you a freshman?"

"I am!" Penelope said. "I skipped eighth grade, I'm only thirteen, I was _going_ to be the youngest student in ninth grade here, but I got beat by a ten-year-old. Who knew, right?"

Haley laughed and it sounded like music. He had to be dying. An aneurysm, maybe?

"This is my roommate, JJ," Penelope was saying. "She's a freshman too. And this is Hotch."

Haley turned to him, making direct eye contact, and now he absolutely wished he was could have an aneurysm right that second. "Hotch?" Haley said.

"Hotchner," he blurted out. "It's, uh, my last name, kind of, everybody calls me Hotch, it's, uh….a lot easier…"

Haley didn't seem to notice his word vomit, or at least was too polite to notice. "What's your first name?" she asked.

He hated his first name, hated it with a passion. "Aaron," he said.

"Aaron?" she repeated. "Oh, that's a nice name."

"Thanks, my dad gave it to me," he said, and he immediately wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"That's funny," she laughed, and his heart skipped against his ribcage. What were the symptoms of Lyme disease? Maybe it was Lyme disease. "Aaron, do you want to sign up for theatre club too?"

"Oh, he's not-" Penelope started to say.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I'd love to sign up."

He signed his name hastily and when she took the ballpoint pen back, her soft fingertips brushed the back of his hand and suddenly his skin felt like it was on fire. Lyme disease. Definitely Lyme disease.

"We'll have our first meeting soon, so just keep checking your student emails," Haley was saying. "And we'll have announcements for the fall show soon, audition dates will be posted soon. I can't wait for you two to join us!"

"Thanks, Haley!" Penelope said. She jabbed Hotch in the ribs and he jumped like he'd been electrocuted.

"Yeah, um...thanks," he said. "Haley."

She smiled again, and this time it felt like the smile was only for him, and he smiled back. But she was distracted quickly by another student coming up to ask her a question, and he didn't realize that he hadn't moved until JJ tugged on his wrist.

"What?" he said, irritated, the spell broken.

"Let's go," she said. "Before Penelope decides to sign up for more activities, or you start drooling."

"I'm...I'm not...I wasn't," he sputtered. "I have Lyme disease."

"Sure you do," JJ said.

He followed her out of the crowd; Penelope was waiting at the top of the steps with what could only be described as a shit eating grin. "Wow, if it isn't Mister 'I Don't Do Musical Theatre'," she said.

"Come on, let's get to the student union before it closes," he said.

Penelope jogged after him. "I thought you didn't have time for extracurriculars," she teased. "You know theatre can be extremely time-consuming, right?"

"If you can sign up for ten clubs, I can sign up for one," he said.

"Eleven. I added ukulele club."

" _Jesus_ , Penelope."

* * *

"All right, Emily, say goodbye to the blue hair."

Emily frowned at her reflection in the mirror. "Goodbye, blue," she said. She ran her hands wistfully through her hair. "You don't think there's a way I can hide it?"

"Unfortunately, not a chance," Alex said. Her wet, freshly dyed hair hung over her shoulders to the middle of her back, making wet splotches on her pajama top. "They're pretty strict about hair colors. Jewelry you can hide, they don't always notice nail polish...but an 'unnatural' hair color will get you in major trouble."

Emily twisted a chunk of blue around her fingers. "A hat or something?" she said.

"Those aren't allowed either."

She sighed and flipped her hair back. "Fine," she said. "Go on, I guess."

Alex brushed out her hair and divided into sections, pinning them up with clips. The black hair dye smelled painfully strong even with their dorm room window opened, and Emily scowled as Alex began painting over the electric blue.

"It won't be so bad," Alex said. "The black will still look good."

"I hope so," Emily said. "Thanks for doing this, by the way. I'm terrible at dyeing my own hair. I had to pay a lot of money to get this done in the first place. My mom was so pissed."

Alex laughed. "I've had a lot of practice, I've been dyeing my hair red since I was a freshman," she said. "I went home for Thanksgiving break and my dad about hit the roof. He's gotten used to it though."

"Yeah, my mom never got used to the blue," Emily said. "Before this it was green, and before that it was purple."

"And your school in Italy let you get away with it?"

Emily shrugged. "It was a school for rich Americans to send their spoiled brats, nobody cared about anything," she said. "We ran a little wild." She paused as Alex unclipped another section of her hair. "I guess that's why the ambassador sent me here."

"Is she really an ambassador?" Alex asked.

"Oh, yeah," Emily said. "She's been stationed everywhere. We've moved like...six times."

"What about your dad?"

"Fuck if I know," Emily said. "I've never met him."

Alex paused. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to pry."

Emily half shrugged, trying not to upset Alex's work. "Don't feel bad," she said. "I don't. It's hard to be bothered about somebody you don't know anything about." She shifted her weight on the chair. "So what should I expect for the first day of school tomorrow? I have a feeling it's going to be slightly different from what I'm used to."

"Oh, slightly," Alex said as she went back to covering her hair in the dark dye. "And you'll get lost at least once tomorrow. Everybody does."

"That's going to suck," Emily said grimly. Almost all of the blue was gone out of her hair now, and she hated it.

"Give it a week or two, and you'll know the whole place like the back of your hand," Alex promised. "It won't be so bad. And it really is a good school. Classes are great." She unclipped another section, letting it tumble down, and pinned the clip to the neckline of her shirt. "I've spent two years campaigning for a sign language class and they finally added it as an elective."

"Yeah, I don't think I'm looking forward to any classes, if I'm being honest," Emily said. "My mom picked everything for me. I didn't even know I was getting shipped out here until a month ago."

"Yeah...that sucks," Alex said. "I'd probably feel the same if it was me." She was on the last section now, and Emily watched her frown in concentration as she painted the black dye. "But hopefully it won't be so bad."

"Hopefully," Emily echoed.

Alex set down the brush and eyed Emily critically, then peeled off her gloves. "I think that's good," she said. "I'll set a timer."

Emily played on her phone aimlessly while the dye sat in her hair and Alex packed her messenger bag with brand new school supplies. When the timer went off she got in the shower and washed it out, watching rivulets of black swirl down the drain. It was so stupid, and she could easily fix it back once she was out of here, but at the same it felt like she had to say goodbye to a part of herself.

She walked back to the room and closed the door behind her. "Well," she said. "How do I look?"

Alex looked up from the textbooks she was labeling with her name and a slow smile crept across her face. "Stand a little more under the light," she said. "A little more...there."

"Okay, why?" Emily asked.

"Because you can still see the blue in the right light," Alex said, and Emily grinned at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow wow wow I love these sweet babies. they're so precious. 
> 
> This fic is turning out to be a slow burn, but I hope y'all like it! We're getting to the found family love soon and I'm delighted about iy. And the angst is coming. So much angst. But also adorable found family shenanigans.
> 
> Also, I love the bit in canon when Spencer says that Alex recites song lyrics when she's stressed. so that's definitely going to be a recurring theme here. And she's definitely singing "Wonderwall" to herself.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter!! Let me know what you think!!


	4. let's get this over with

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of school is both exciting and exhausting

_Even when you're out of work you still have a job to do_  
_Even when you don't know what it is_  
_Your job knows what it is_  
_What it is is it's coming to get you_  
_I'm talking to myself even when I'm saying "you"_

_And when you wake up you can feel your hair grow_  
_Crawl out of your cave and you can watch your shadow_  
_Creep across the ground until the day is done_  
_All the while the planet circles 'round the sun_  
_Everybody knows how this goes so let's get over it_  
_And let's get this over with_

\--"Let's Get This Over With" by They Might Be Giants

* * *

Hotch didn't sleep the night before the first day of school.

It wasn't from excitement.

He stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, running through disaster scenarios in his head. There were twenty-four boys on his floor that he was responsible for, and what had seemed completely easy and manageable when he applied to be a resident advisor now seemed impossible. What if there was a fire? Or a flood? What if none of the kids on his floor remembered to set their alarms, and they all overslept?

His alarm was set to go off at five; at four-thirty he gave up on trying to sleep.

One of the perks of being an RA was having his own bathroom- the smallest bathroom in the world, but his own. He showered in peace and quiet and even had time to shave the faint stubble spiking on his jaw without dodging seven other teenage boys like he had the past two years. It didn't make him feel better, exactly, but it at least took off the sharpest edge of stress.

He hated to admit it, but he'd missed his school uniform. There was something safe and familiar about it- khaki pants, white button up shirt, the navy and gold striped tie. He had new shoes for this school year too, glossy and still perfect, straight the box.

He could hear the first rumbles of the other kids starting to wake up, chatting and slamming doors, the hallway lights shining under his door. Somebody was playing music, maybe a little bit too loudly, but it was the first day of school and everybody was bound to be full of nervous energy, he'd let it slide just this once.

He slipped out of his room and headed down the hall. From the looks of it, lights were on in every room and multiple showers were running. A little bit more of the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He didn't have to worry. At least not too much.

The door to Derek and Spencer's room was partially open. Hotch peeked inside. "Hey, how's it going?" he asked.

"Great!" Spencer said cheerfully. He was already dressed, but he had opted for the khaki shorts that the underclassmen were allowed to wear. Except-

"Hey, Spencer?" Hotch said. "Your socks don't match. And that's...that's not exactly how you tie a tie."

Spencer looked down at his mismatched socks, one red and one blue, and then up at Hotch. "I never match my socks, it's for good luck," he explained. "And my tie should be right, I looked up a tutorial on YouTube."

Hotch laughed. "Not quite, buddy," he said. "And I get the sock thing, but you don't want to get dresscoded on your first day, do you?"

Spencer sighed. "I guess not," he said.

"C'mere, I'll show you how to tie your tie," Hotch said. He nudged Spencer over to the full length mirror and stood behind him so he could watch him work. "You leave it like that, you'll strangle yourself."

"Actually, the odds of that happening would be pretty low, unless my tie got stuck on something," he said. "A famous dancer in the 1920s died because her scarf got stuck on a car's hubcap. Isadora Duncan. Her neck-"

"Yeah, maybe don't get into that," Hotch said quickly. "There. That make sense how I did that?"

Spencer frowned and leaned closer to the mirror. "It makes sense, but the real question is if I can replicate it," he said. He looked down at his small hands. "I'm kind of a klutz."

"That's okay," Hotch said. "It took me a while to get the hang of it too. But don't worry, you have to do this every morning and after a while you won't even think about it. Now go change your socks."

Derek darted into the room, his shirt untucked and half buttoned. "Oh, god, socks," he said. "Where are mine? I don't remember where I put them."

"No, Morgan, I don't know where you put your socks," Hotch said dryly.

"In your dresser, top row, the drawer on the far right," Spencer said as he leaned closer to the mirror and frowned at Hotch's handiwork

Derek gave him a funny look, but opened the drawer. "Damn, you're right," he said.

"I know," Spencer said.

Hotch checked his watch. "Breakfast starts in fifteen minutes," he said. "You two about ready?"

"Yeah, yeah, give me a second," Derek huffed, hopping around as he tried to pull a sock on.

"Let me know if you need me," Hotch said, and he headed back down the hall to his room.

Nervous energy buzzed in his stomach like a shaken can of soda. There was nothing to be nervous about, really. Everything was going fine, none of the boys on his floor were going to miss class and nothing had caught fire. A major victory, really.

He put on his navy blazer and fastened the gold buttons, then picked up his backpack. _Everything's fine, Hotchner_ , he told himself sternly. _You haven't fucked up._

He walked back down the hall, checking doors surreptitiously as he passed by. Nothing seemed amiss. Everyone was up and getting ready. Everything was fine.

Derek and Spencer waited at the top of the stairs; Spencer had switched out his mismatched socks for the dress-code-approved tall gray ones, but Derek was wearing long pants like the upperclassmen. "You two have everything?" Hotch asked. "Schedules, books?"

"Yeah, man, it's not my first rodeo," Derek said, shrugging his new backpack onto his shoulders.

"Well, it's mine," Spencer said. "Although one rodeo still doesn't seem like an adequate number to be really prepared."

"You'll be fine," Hotch assured him. "Do you want my phone number? We shouldn't have phones out, but just in case you need me-"

"I don't have a phone," Spencer said.

"We'll keep an eye out for you," Derek assured him. "Can we go now? I'm starving."

Hotch checked his pockets- phone, keys, wallet. "Yeah, yeah, let's go."

He followed them down the long flights of stairs to the ground floor. Spencer was carrying the old backpack he'd carried on his first night and it looked ready to bust open with the weight of his books. He filed a mental note to ask him about it later. There was no way it was going to last the entire semester.

"There you are!" Penelope said as they made it to the lobby. She and JJ waited by the door, both dressed in their navy blazers and red plaid skirts. "We've been waiting for ages."

"Neither of us could sleep last night," JJ admitted.

"First day nerves?" Hotch said. Both girls nodded. "You'll both be fine, don't worry."

"Easier said than done," Penelope said. "I can't help it, I worry."

"Let's just take it one thing at a time," Hotch said.

Derek shifted his weight. "Yeah, like breakfast," he said. "Can we go?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Hotch said. "Your rooms are locked, you've all got keys and your IDs?" All four of them held up their lanyards. "Okay. Now we can go."

Outside the morning sun was barely beginning to peek through the clouds, turning the tall trees on campus from dark shadows back into green leaves and branches again. The air was faintly cool, already tinged with the promise of the day's heat and humidity. Derek led the way, walking backwards to show off while he chatted brightly with the girls; Penelope's hair was tied in two curled pigtails and decked with little navy bows while JJ's was tied in a long neat plait down her back. Spencer trotted close to Hotch's side, his thumbs tucked in the straps of his battered backpack, watching his surroundings with wide-eyed curiosity. Hotch exhaled slowly.

 _It's going to be a good year,_ he told himself. _It will be._

* * *

Alex was right, and Emily was mad about it- she got lost on campus immediately.

She found her homeroom easily, which was good, but her first period class was on the opposite end of the building, and while she found the right room number, she was on the second floor instead of the third, and had to run up the polished staircase, her backpack swinging perilously on her shoulder.

She slipped into the correct classroom seconds before the bell rang, out of breath, her freshly dyed hair mussed around her face, and dropped into a desk in the back row. This wasn't much of an auspicious start, but then again, she hadn't had high hopes for this school in the first place.

"Bonjour, classe," the teacher said, and Emily frowned, pulling her folded-up schedule out of her blazer pocket.

 _French I_ , she thought. _What the hell?_

The teacher passed out copies of the syllabus and Emily scanned it quickly. "Now, since this is a beginner's class, I will permit English in the classroom," the teacher said. "But as we continue our studies, I will encourage as much French as possible. By next semester you will only be permitted to speak French in class."

 _This is bullshit,_ Emily thought.

She'd been speaking French since she was a toddler. When they lived in the Ukraine her mother had hired a French au pair; she spoke in French whenever her mother wasn't around- which, to be honest, was often. And her mom _knew_ she spoke French, there had to have been a mistake when she signed her up for this class. She probably meant to sign her up for a more advanced class, or a different beginner class for a language she hadn't learned. There was no way her mom was this obtuse.

The teacher continued going over the syllabus as Emily dug her French textbook out of the black Kate Spade backpack her mother had bought for her. She flipped through it, frowning. It was all basics- vocabulary, mostly, and a little bit about French culture. There was barely any real conjugation, just a general introduction of _passé composé_ in the last chapter.

She grinned to herself. This was _perfect_. She didn't need to bother to learn anything new. Everything they would cover she would already know. Hell, she'd been to France so many times she'd lost count. This would be the easiest class in her life.

"Emily Prentiss?"

Her head shot up. "Uh...present," she said.

The teacher smiled patiently. "What French name would you like to be called this year, Mademoiselle Prentiss?" she asked.

Emily blinked. It was way too early in the morning for creativity, and they didn't serve coffee in the school cafeteria. Her eyes fell on a large map of France pinned to the wall. "Lorraine?" she said helplessly.

"Ah, _d'accord_ ," the teacher said, making a note in her rollbook. "Now, Mademoiselle Lorraine, introduce yourself in French, _s'il vous plait."_

"Uh…" she stammered.

"Don't worry, we're all beginners here," the teacher encouraged. "Don't worry about the accent, it'll come in time."

Emily paused. " _Je m'appelle..._ Lorraine?" she said.

"Very nice!" the teacher said. "Nicely done." She paused and tilted her head. "Can you see me after class, please?"

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair and hooking the heels of her Doc Martens on the rail of the desk on front of her. Thirty minutes into class, and the jig was already up. She wasn't sure how the teacher had figured out her ruse in a single phrase, but no doubt she'd get moved into an advanced class, or a different language altogether. She'd have to actually try.

The bell rang and she reluctantly made her way up to the front, swimming upstream against the other students hurrying to their next classes. "You wanted to see me?" she said.

"Yes," the teacher said. "I couldn't help but notice...something is just a little out of place."

Emily sighed. "I'm sorry, I should have said something, it's just that my au pair was French and I-"

"I know you're new, so I won't write you up just yet, but we only allow natural-toned nail polish in the dress code," the teacher said. "Unfortunately, that means your black polish isn't permitted. And it must be...in good shape."

Emily looked down at her hands, the nails chewed short and splotched with chipped glossy black polish. "Oh," she said. "That's what I...oh. Okay."

" _D'accord,_ Mademoiselle Prentiss?"

Emily cleared her throat. " _D'accord,_ Madame," she said. "Uh... _merci."_

She drawled the words out, flat and overenuniciated, but the teacher smiled. "You're picking up the vocabulary so quickly!" she said, pleased. "I'm looking forward to having you in my class this year. Just make sure the polish is removed before tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," Emily said. She shouldered her backpack and speedwalked out of the classroom, biting back a smug smirk. This was going to be the easiest class she'd ever taken.

* * *

By the time the belltower chimed for chapel, the sun was up in earnest. James briefly wished he could take off his blazer, soaking up the heat, but he didn't dare. Inside the old chapel was dimly lit and cool, buzzing with quiet conversations as students filed down the narrow aisles.

Each section of old high-backed church pews were marked, and the returning students found their places easily while the new ones milled around, whispering embarrassed questions. It had been the same way as long as he could remember- boys on the left, girls on the right, freshman in the front and rising to the seniors in the back, and each class seated in alphabetical order.

He'd been sitting between Barrett and Bly for the past three years, it wasn't hard to find his spot. Dave was a few rows behind him, frowning at his phone as he tried to text without being notice. James looked across the aisle, scanning for Alex. He didn't see her yet, but there was still time before chapel started.

He leaned back against the hard back of the pew and looked up at the rafters. The chapel was one of the oldest parts of campus, an old Edwardian church renovated over and over again over the past hundred years. The air conditioning was new, the well-worn hardwood floors were at least half a century, and the stained glass windows were original, heavy leaden panes holding up colored glass like melted candies and casting bright patterns across the room.

Alex walked into the chapel, her hair catching rainbows, and she caught his eye and waved. He waved back. The sides of her hair were drawn back from her face with a velvet ribbon and she wore brown laced ankle boots and white knee socks and her arms were laden down with books, and she was beautiful.

He didn't fall in love with her when they first met. They were fourteen, both brand new freshmen. She was working her first shift in the library, supervised by a bored senior who didn't want to be there, and he was stressed about being assigned a critical essay for his English class in the first week of school. He had asked her to help him find a book, which turned into her offering to help with his essay, which ended with her covering his rough draft with red pen notes and him vowing to never speak to her again.

But her edits were right, and she was always in the library which made her hard to avoid, and she was pretty nice once he got to know her. And then she and Dave became friends after she hit over the the head with a book and they both got sent to the headmaster's office, and the three of them had been inseparable ever since.

Chapel service started with the headmaster stepping up to make a welcome speech; James only half-listened. He wasn't as brazen as Dave playing on his forbidden phone, or as sly as Alex hiding a novel in a bible dust jacket, but chapel was an excellent time to close his eyes for a little bit.

No, he couldn't exactly pinpoint when he'd fallen in love with Alex. He just...suddenly got nervous around her, second-guessing everything he said or did around her. She didn't seem to notice. But Dave sure did.

And Dave was right. He needed to ask Alex out at some point before the school year was over. If he waited too long, he might not ever get the chance. He'd probably stay in state for college, commuting to get his pre-med major, while she would probably end up in a big city, maybe overseas. He might never see her again after graduation. He wouldn't see her again until their ten-year-reunion. And by then-

"Hey, Blake. Are you going to sit here all day?"

He opened his eyes. Dave leaned over the back of the pew, smirking at him, and Alex was next to him. "I guess I zoned out," he said.

"You must have been thinking pretty hard, you've got that line between your eyebrows," Alex said. He rubbed his face. "What's got you so worked up? It's only the first day of school."

"Oh, it's nothing," he said. "It'll...it'll all work out eventually."

* * *

"Penelope, are you sure that's a good idea?" JJ said warily.

"I did," she said. "Why? What's wrong?"

JJ crossed her arms. "This is gym class," she said. "You might not be making some...practical choices."

"What do you mean?"

JJ steered her over to the mirror and stood beside her. "What do you think?"

Penelope frowned. They were both wearing gray tee shirts with the school logo and navy shorts, but JJ's long hair was pulled up in a ponytail and she wore running shoes. Penelope had left her bows in her hair and her sparkly platform sneakers kept shedding glitter as she moved. "I think I'm okay," she said.

JJ sighed. "We'll see," she said.

Penelope followed her out of the locker room and into the gym. All ninth graders were required to take gym, otherwise she would have found a way to get out of it. Maybe she could fly under the radar.

Her sneakers flashed lights as she walked, reflecting in the polished gym floor, and she made a face. Maybe she should tone it down, just a little. At least for this class.

"Hey, Spencer!" JJ called. "Over here!"

"Oh, lord, he's so small," Penelope sighed. "We need to keep an eye on him. He might get stepped on. "

Spencer jogged over to them, his long hair flopping in his eyes. He was half the size or less of every freshman milling around the gym and his sneakers looked like they were one wrong step from disintegrating around his ankles. "Hi!" he said. "Are you guys stuck in this class too?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Penelope said. "It's going to be a long year."

"It shouldn't be that bad," JJ said.

The teacher blew his whistle. "Okay, kids, huddle up," he said. "Most of your other teachers are gonna start classes today with announcements and looking over the syllabus. I don't believe in a syllabus, so...boys on this side, girls on that side." He blew his whistle again. "Go!"

"I don't get it, what's happening?" Penelope said, looking around wildly. "JJ, what's happening?"

"Oh, no," she said as the coach began placing red balls at the center line. "Dodgeball."

Spencer frowned. "That's archaic," he said. "Boys on one side, girls on the other, don't they realize that the spectrum…" He paused. "Did you say dodgeball?"

JJ caught them both by the shoulders. "It won't be that bad," she said. "Penelope, just stick with me, okay? Spencer...good luck."

"I will come home carrying my shield, or on it," he said glumly.

Penelope blinked. "And that means…"

"I'm not gonna survive out there."

JJ shook them both lightly. "Just try to get out as soon as you can, as easily as you can," she said. "Don't be a hero."

"Spencer, I'll get you out if you can get me out," Penelope said. "As gently as possible." He nodded.

The coach blew the whistle again. "On your marks!" he called. Spencer darted over to the opposite side of the gym, nearly tripping over his shoes. "Get set!"

"Shit, shit, shit, shit…" Penelope mumbled under her breath, her stupid sneakers blinking cheerfully as she backed up. JJ crouched like she was at the starting line of a hundred meter dash.

"Go!"

Penelope shrieked. JJ took off at a dead sprint and grabbed one of the red dodgeballs. "Okay, okay, okay, this is fine, this is fine!" she said. JJ lobbed the ball across the line and smacked a tall dark-haired boy in the chest. "Oh god!"

Across the gym Spencer ducked around a couple of older boys and picked up a dodgeball, cradling it against his chest with both skinny arms. "Penelope!" he called. "I'll get you out!"

She ran towards the front of line. "Yes, please!" she shouted. "Save me from this!" He rolled it towards her and it grazed her ankle, making her glittery sneakers light up again. "Yes! Perfect! I'm out!"

He flashed her a thumbs up, but from behind Penelope a red ball soared overhead and connected squarely with Spencer's face with a solid _boink_. She winced as he fell backwards and the ball bounced away.

The coach whistled. "No hits to the face!" he hollered. "Little guy, you're out! Sparkle girl, you too, off the court!"

Penelope beat a hasty retreat off the gym floor and scrambled for the bleachers. Spencer followed her, his hands over his face. "Are you okay?" she asked anxiously as he plunked down beside her. "You got thwacked real hard."

"I'm okay," he said, slightly nasal and muffled. "I'm not bleeding." He moved his hands and eyed his palms critically. "No, not bleeding. It could be worse."

"God, gym class is going to be the worst part of this school year, isn't it?" she sighed.

"If this is the worst, it'll be a lot better than if I stayed home," he said. "Wow, JJ is really going for it, isn't she?"

Penelope watched JJ scoop up a red ball and hurl it across the gym without breaking her stride. "Yeah, look at her go," she said. "Wow. Okay, yeah, we're just going to hide behind her during class, aren't we?"

"Absolutely," Spencer said, nodding vigorously.

* * *

"Is it possible to have senioritis on the first day of senior year?" Dave asked.

"It shouldn't be possible, but yet, you've achieved it," James said.

Dave grinned. "Listen, the senioritis hit the second I finished my last exam for junior year," he said.

"Of course it did," James sighed, leaning his elbows back on the sunbaked stone wall.

"Colleges don't look at senior year grades, they look at junior year, and you know I'm right," Dave countered. "I'm going to coast through the rest of this year, smooth sailing. And then I'll spend the summer in Italy with eight million of my relatives, and then I'll start college."

"I'll spend my summer working in my dad's bakery," James said dryly. He leaned back, tilting his face up towards the sun. "Lucky me."

"But hey, I'm sure you're going to get into a great school," Dave said. "Hell, you and Alex are neck and neck for valedictorian. I'm sure you'll get accepted to everywhere. Have you decided your number one choice yet?"

James pushed himself off the wall and straightened up. "Oh, there's the girls," he said. "Jeez, Emily looks pissed."

"No, I think that's just her resting facial expression," Dave mused.

Alex and Emily walked down the steps of the dining hall together, drinks and to-go containers in their hands. "How's it going so far?" James asked.

"Great!" Alex said. "ASL is going to be my favorite class this year, I can already tell."

"I've been dresscoded twice!" Emily said cheerfully. "They're just warnings and not official write-ups, but still."

"Get a third, and that might be a school record," Dave said.

Emily tossed her hair back as they walked down the cobblestone path. "So where are we going?" she asked. "And why aren't we eating inside, in the air conditioning? This blazer is a fucking polyester nightmare."

"You'll get used to it," James said.

"As for where we're going," Dave said. "Every group on campus has their own spot. The three of claimed one of the best spots on campus our freshman year. It's a little bit of a hike, but it's worth it."

"It'd better be," Emily said.

Dave grinned. "Oh, it is," he said as they approached the chain link fence covered in ivy and lamb's ear. James shifted his water bottle under his arm and picked the foliage apart until he reached the latch. It fought back, sticky with humidity and the past few months of disuse, but it swung open with a reluctant groan.

"We found this place during our freshman year," Alex explained. "It hasn't been used in decades."

Emily surveyed the old amphitheater, the sun-faded concrete sinking deep into the ground. Rainwater collected at the bottom in a dark half-dried puddle, and on the inner side of the chain link fence long-forgotten rosebushes bloomed in wild abandon. It was still humid but a little cooler from the shade of tall oak and maple trees. "Do you guys often wander into the weird parts of nature?" she asked.

James shrugged. "When you spend about seventy-five percent of your high school years on campus, then yeah, I guess," he said. He set down his lunch. "We come out here a lot when it's not raining. It's a good place for studying, too."

Emily peeled off her blazer and dropped it on the top concrete step. "Yeah, it's not bad, I guess," she said. "And I guess it's a lot quieter than staying inside."

The amphitheater had been their tradition for the past three years. No one else at St. Thaddeus had found it, and it had stayed their secret. For the first time, Dave felt the first little twinge of nostalgia. He'd spent his entire childhood knowing that someday his parents would drive him through the gates of St. Thaddeus and waiting for it anxiously. Now it seemed wrong to be so ready to leave.

They chatted aimlessly until the belltower rang; James gathered up everyone's trash and Alex picked up Emily's blazer. "You might want to keep an eye on this," she said.

"Ugh," Emily groaned, snatching it back. "I hate this thing. I've worn it for half a day, and I hate it already. When it's my turn to graduate, I'm going to burn it."

Dave laughed. "You wouldn't be the first," he said.

They made their way back out of the amphitheater and he squinted as they left the shade. Alex reached through the thick glossy ivy leaves and pulled the gate latch shut, then moved the vines back in place.

"All right, where's everybody going to next?" James asked.

"Chemistry," Emily said. "Kill me now."

"Ha, I've got senior math," Dave said. "And that's nothing. That's just reviewing shit."

"Oh, god," Alex groaned. "We're in the same class. This is going to-"

A pargo zipped past them on the manicured grass, then pulled up to a stop. The passenger climbed out, keeping a hand on the roof. He wore the white security team shirt, and a gold badge was pinned to the left pocket. "Hey," he said sharply. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

The driver twisted around in his seat. "It's fine, MacGregor," Bennett said. "They still have time."

"Yeah, we're just heading back," Dave said.

MacGregor frowned at them, scanning the emblems on their blazers, and relented. "All right," he said. "You kids better hurry."

"Yeah, we will," James said. MacGregor got back in the pargo and Bennett drove down the path; James scowled. "God, they creep me out."

"It's not a big deal," Dave shrugged. "But yeah, we'd better head back soon. Alex and I have a math class to get to."

"Oh, it's going to be a long year," Alex said.

* * *

Spencer wrestled with his backpack, trying to untstick the zipper. It popped and gave way at last, and he pulled his history book out and placed it on his desk before shoving the backpack under the seat.

This was his first class so far without one of the girls. He hadn't thought that it would make him nervous- he'd spent his first few years in school doing perfectly fine on his own without friends. But then again, he'd never had to switch classes before, and the campus was huge, and it was reassuring when Penelope or JJ slid into the desk next him.

"Hey. You should move."

Spencer looked up. "Why?" he asked.

Two bigger boys- both at least a foot taller than him, a blond one with a linebacker's build and a brunet one with a narrow ratlike face- leaned over him. "Neal wanted that seat," the brunet said. "So you should move. There's a desk in the back."

Spencer blinked. "Why should I move?" he said. "I was here first."

"You heard Dallas, I was going to sit there," the blond complained. "You should move. It's my first day, you should be nice."

"It's my first day too," Spencer said. "And I don't think you actually want to me to be nice. I think you're trying to play on societal politeness in order to get your own way."

Neal scowled, but the teacher stepped to the front of the classroom. "All right, everybody, take your seats," he said. "You heard the bell ring, that means everyone should be seated."

Neal stomped away, but Dallas slid into the empty desk beside Spencer. Spencer sat very still, his hands clasped on his desk, his eyes trained on the teacher. It was an old habit, honed in the past few years of being the smartest and the smallest of every class. The more the teachers noticed him, the less the bullies were inclined to pick on him.

At least for the time being.

He wasn't new to bullying. Before he started school, it was the neighborhood kids shoving him around on the playground and taking off on their bikes to leave him behind- knowing he didn't have a bike, and no ever taught him how to ride, anyway. And when he started school, the other kindergarteners were content learning ABCs and 123s; he struggled to use the safety scissors and he couldn't color neatly inside the lines, but he sat alone during playtime with novels that he smuggled out of his mother's vast collection.

It didn't help that he was already small for his age, and now he was surrounded by kids four and five years older than him, already well into their growth spurts. His mother kept promising he was going to grow, that someday he'd even be taller than her, but it wasn't much solace now when he was half the size of his classmates and getting better grades than them.

His mother told him once that "the smart kid in class feels like the only kid in class." Well, she didn't tell him that. He'd overheard his parents arguing when they thought he was asleep. His mother wanted him to skip more grades; his father insisted he needed to go back to his correct class for his "emotional maturity" to catch up.

All he wanted for his parents to be happy, and proud of him, but since that wasn't going to happen, he might as well challenge himself.

The history textbook on his desk was brand new, the edges of the pages still sharp and crisp. He'd never used a brand new textbook before. The glossy cover made his stubby half-sharpened pencils seem even more shabby, but that was all right. Maybe now that he had some money in his flex account, he could get himself some new pencils.

The teacher talked them through the syllabus and he tapped his fingers against the heel of his palm as he listened. His feet didn't touch the floor and he swung his legs back and forth.

A hand snaked over and took one of his pencils. He whipped around. "Hey!" he whispered loudly. "That's mine!"

Dallas shrugged. "You should be nice and let me borrow it," he said.

"But I-"

"Mr. Reid?"

His stomach dropped. The teacher was staring at him, and so was the rest of the class. "Everything all right?"

He looked over at Dallas holding one of his last pencils, then shook his head. "Yes," he said in a small voice. Dallas smiled.

The teacher frowned at him before turning back to the syllabus, and he shrank into his seat. He had miscalculated what the bullying situation would be like in private school. A childish part of him had hoped that he wouldn't get bullied at all, that he'd be surrounded by kids as smart as he was who didn't bother picking on little kids.

Dallas wrote notes on the margins of his syllabus with Spencer's pencil. He pressed down too hard and the lead snapped; he dropped the pencil and let it roll off the desk and onto the floor. Spencer didn't dare to move to pick it up.

He focused on the teacher instead, drumming his thumb against the back of his hand. The second the bell rang he leaned down to pick up his pencil, scooped up his textbook and backpack, and darted out of the classroom.

The only good thing about being a fraction of the size of the other kids was that he could disappear. He ran into the crowded hallway, clutching his belongings, and nearly collided with a grownup in a white shirt.

"Hey!" the man said sharply, grabbing him by the shoulder. His gold badge glinted in the hallway lights; his name tag said _Officer MacGregor._ Spencer gulped. "No running in the halls, Lincoln House."

"I'm sorry, there's these bigger kids-" he stammered.

The man let go and he tripped, trying to catch his balance. "You're lucky I got better things to do right now," he said. "Get to class, Lincoln House."

"Yes, sir," Spencer mumbled. 

He slowed down, weaving around the taller kids, his heart pounding in his throat. His last class of the day was English comp, and when he skidded into the room, slightly out of breath, his belongings piled in his arms, the first thing he saw was Penelope waving from the front row. "Spencer! Come sit with us!" she said brightly.

"We saved a seat for you," JJ said.

And sure enough, the girls had saved a desk between them, and he dropped his things on the floor in relief. "Thanks," he said.

Penelope yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "I am not used to this," she said. "Is it just me, or has this day felt like the longest ever?"

Spencer repacked his backpack. "You spent all summer in a relaxed environment, so your brain is adjusting to a new normalcy," he said. "And besides-"

He paused. Neal and Dallas walked into the classroom, and before he could look away they scowled at him.

The girls didn't catch it. "Oh, did you see this?" JJ said, pulling out a brightly colored flyer from her folder. "There's going to be a back-to-school carnival tonight."

Penelope clapped her hands. "I love that!" she said. "We're going, right? We all have to go!"

"Derek and I have tryouts after school," JJ said. "We can probably go...but I'm going to be so tired."

"Oh, it'll be fun!" Penelope said. "We'll just pump you full of caffeine and sugar and you'll be fine. And you're going to come too, right, Spencer?"

"Yeah," he said absently. Neal and Dallas took seats in the back of the classroom, away from him, and he relaxed. They couldn't do anything to him from that far away. And he wasn't about to let their intimidation tactics get to him. He'd dealt with worse before. This was nothing.

"Are those your only pencils?" JJ asked.

He looked down at his desk and the two chipped yellow pencils, both of them worn halfway down, one with a broken lead. "Yeah," he said. "That's all I need."

JJ unzipped a pocket on her light blue backpack and took out a mechanical pencil with a clean white eraser. "Those are pretty much useless," she said. "You can borrow one of mine if you'd like."

She held out the pencil; he stared at it for a moment before accepting it. "Thank you," he said, and he smiled.

* * *

JJ stood for a moment by the locker room door. Shrieked conversations bounced off the slick concrete floor and the dark blue metal lockers. She shouldered her bag and slipped past the older girls to find a quiet corner to change.

She had been quietly dreading this moment since the night before, when she signed her name on the roster for soccer tryouts. Maybe it wasn't too late to back out. There had to be other kids who impulsively signed up for clubs and teams and never showed up. And she was a new kid, a new freshman, and no one would know who she was.

She had never been a sports kid. That had never been her thing. It had always been...well, it didn't matter now.

She pulled an East Alleghany High School soccer team shirt over her head and tugged at the waistband of her Nike shorts. The shirt was too big, but she needed it for good luck. For a moment she contemplated taking off her necklace, but the second she touched the clasp she drew her hand back. No, she needed the necklace for luck too.

Her mom had gotten her new running shoes, bright blue and hot pink, the laces still perfect in the eyelets. They were a little stiff still, she hadn't bothered to break them in, so there was a strong possibility of blisters. That was fine. She'd dealt with worse. This was nothing.

Her first pair of pointe shoes had dug into her heels until she bled through her tights, but she hadn't cared. She had spent the entirety of her first pointe class at the barre, wobbling through her first relevés and echappés, joy pulsing in her chest with every slow, unsteady step. Before long she figured out how to make her pointe shoes her own- bending the shank, placing the elastic and ribbons exactly where she wanted them, stitching the extra fabric into the sides. Three times a week after school she went to class, and soon her pointe shoes became a seamless part of her.

But then, of course, she had stopped dancing, and her pointe shoes and her leotards and her tights were packed away in a cardboard box under her bed in Pennsylvania, gathering dust.

"All right, ladies, I want everybody on the field in five minutes!"

JJ tugged the elastic from the end of her braid and combed her fingers through her long blonde hair. She pulled it up into a ponytail as she walked, her hair falling into complacency quickly after a lifetime of smooth Balanchine buns, and snapped the tie into place.

Outside the gym the afternoon sun was oppressive, making her squint. The grass on the soccer field was cropped short and smelled fresh and sharp. Now that she was on the field it seemed massive, stretching out impossibly far. It reminded her of how her studio could seem so vast when it was her turn to cross the floor in tour jetés and turn combinations, counting out beats in her head and hoping she remembered to spot correctly.

And if she could spend thirty minutes after class practicing piqué turns because she wanted to get them right, she could spend the next hour or two running through the grass and chasing after a black and white ball.

She lined up with the other girls. No one was speaking now; the locker room camaraderie had given way to _every man for himself._ She held onto her elbow behind her back, her feet in her bright blue and pink sneakers falling into an unconscious fourth position out of long-held habit, and surreptitious took stock of her competition. There were some other freshmen there too, she wasn't the youngest or the smallest, but these girls oozed athleticism, their hair held back with narrow neon elastic bands and their tee shirts advertising the sports camps they'd attended and the teams they'd played for.

"All right, everybody," the coach called. "We're going to spend this afternoon running through some drills. I want to put you through your paces, see what you're all capable of. But first I wanna see all of you take a lap. Everybody line up!"

JJ followed the girls, slipping into the middle of the crowd, and when the coach blew the whistle to start she took off, weaving around taller girls with longer legs. Maybe these girls had more experience, maybe they'd played soccer since their childhood days the way she remembered her first ballet class in her little pink leotard, waving a ribbon stick to the Nutcracker score.

But she had something they didn't, and that was something to prove.

She had never played soccer herself, outside of elementary school gym class, but she'd spent hours sitting on hard silver bleachers, her feet propped up on the seat in front of her, watching games. More often than not it was cold, the Pennsylvania fall turning to chill by the beginning of October, and her mother would wrap her up in fleece blankets and her father would get her hot chocolate from the concession stand and she would scream and cheer with every play, every goal, her eyes trained on the only player that mattered, watching her long blonde ponytail fly behind her like a pennant.

She hadn't gone to a soccer game in a long time. Before she packed up her pointe shoes, they had packed away the cleats, the jerseys, the trophies. There was still a photo, framed, hanging over the piano, an action shot from the last championship game, frozen in time.

The other girls were running ahead of her and she was losing ground, and for a sudden second her blood ran hot. She hated them, she hated all of them, they lost their singularity and blended into one faceless entity, and she hated them.

JJ gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists and she ran faster, gaining on them, her new sneakers slipping on the grass. She would think about everything else later. Right now she needed to focus on making this stupid team, even though it was the last place she wanted to be.

* * *

The library was still quiet, but she wasn't expecting it to be too busy yet, not until teachers started assigning papers and projects. There were a few students there, though, browsing the shelves and lounging on soft-cushioned armchairs with novels. Alex sat at the circulation desk, sorting through new books and adding them to computer system, humming to herself.

The cart was stacked high with books waiting to be put away; she slid her chair back and took off her blazer, hiding it under the desk. Technically she was supposed to be in full uniform when she was working, but with only a handful of students around it probably didn't matter.

She unbuttoned her sleeve cuffs and rolled them up to her elbows before pushing the cart out from behind the desk. The wheels stuck and sputtered on the rug and she forced it onto the hardwood with a cheerful clatter.

She started with fiction and worked her way through the alphabet, stretching to reach the top shelves that were just ever so slightly out of her way, and then moved on towards nonfiction. The air conditioning raised cold prickles on her arms, but afternoon sunlight shone through the tall windows and cast comfortable shadows over the padded windowseats.

She turned a corner in the stacks and stopped. This wasn't the first time she'd found a student asleep in the library, but this was definitely the smallest one. He was little, maybe nine years old or so, curled up on the windowseat like a kitten, his head tilted against the wall and a book left propped open on his lap. If he hadn't been wearing the St. Thaddeus uniform, she wouldn't have guessed he was a student.

She tugged the cart as quietly as she could, frowning as she shelved books into the 600s section, and then it hit her. It was the same kid Emily had knocked over on orientation night. She'd noticed then that he was small, but in the dark and the hustle of handing him over to the RA at Lincoln House it hadn't quite clicked that he was that young.

The cart snagged the corner of a shelf unit with a skip and a clank, and a couple of precariously balanced books dropped to the floor. She cursed under her breath and bent to pick them back up, but as she dropped them back on the top rack she heard a startled little shriek.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," she apologized. "You can go back to sleep."

The little boy sat upright, rubbing his eyes. His book had slipped to the floor. "I can't believe I fell asleep," he mumbled.

Alex laughed. "Don't even worry about it," she said. "You're not the first kid to fall asleep in the library, and you definitely won't be the last."

He yawned. "Probably first one this year though, I'm guessing," he said.

"You are right about that," she said. "It's Spencer, right?"

He scrunched up his face. "Uh-huh," he said, and then he brightened. "Oh! Alex! You helped me the other day!"

"Yeah, that was me," she smiled. She picked up his dropped book and sat next to him on the windowseat. "How's your first day going so far?"

Spencer shrugged. His hair was a little too long for dress code standards, curling at the ends and sticking up in the back from his impromptu nap. "This school is more academically rigorous than my old school, so that's good," he said.

"They're not as tough back in Las Vegas?" she asked.

"That, and I was supposed to be going into the fifth grade," he said dryly. "I skipped a few years."

She laughed. "Yeah, yeah, that's a very good point," she said. She handed him his book back. "The Time Machine, huh? That's a good choice."

"I haven't read it since I was in second grade," he said, running his hand over the cover. "It's not my favorite HG Wells, but I like it."

"I always liked War of the Worlds better," she said. "And besides, the Morlocks gave me nightmares when I was a kid."

"Me too!" he said. "Hopefully I've outgrown that, though."

Alex bit back a grin. He couldn't be older than ten, and he was small for his age- there wasn't much for him to outgrow. Briefly she wondered what would possess his parents to send a kid this little across the country alone, academics aside.

"Well, I'm here pretty much every day after school, so keep me updated if you need a book recommendation," she said. "There's a lot of new stuff coming in."

"Thanks, Alex, I'll-" He paused as his stomach rumbled noisily.

She laughed. "It's been a while since lunch, hasn't it?" she said. He shrugged sheepishly. "C'mere, follow me."

He slid off the windowseat, his book under his arm, and she led him back to the broad circulation desk. "So this is a secret," she warned him. "Because there's no eating in the library. Ever. Absolutely not." She opened up a bottom drawer and picked up two packages of poptarts. "Do you want strawberry, or cinnamon brown sugar?"

Spencer's eyes lit up. "Strawberry!" he said.

She handed it over and opened the brown sugar packet for herself. "I always keeps snacks in here," she said. "So if you're ever in the library and you're hungry, let me know, okay?"

"Thanks!" he said. He sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall, munching happily as he opened his book again. Alex sat down at the desk again, hiding her poptarts on an inner shelf, and picked up the next book to be processed.

* * *

Derek skidded to a stop and grabbed his water bottle from the sidelines; sweat rolled down the back of his neck and soaked the back of his shirt. He was used to running outside back home, but that was different. In Chicago he spent the summer running on crowded sidewalks, his shoes striking the pavement in long even strides, dodging a sea of people. And in Chicago it was hot, but here the air was thick and swampy with humidity, making it harder to function. But he could do it.

He dropped the water bottle and picked up his speed again, pushing himself through the drill. This year he wasn't going to be content with the JV team, playing opposite other kids that were like him, too small and skinny to make it with the big boys, and sitting glumly in the bleachers while he watched the varsity team play the homecoming game without him.

Last year, though, he was only five-three. He was a buck twenty soaking wet, his arms and legs skinny and gangly. And he'd been devastated to not make varsity, but deep in his heart, he knew it made sense. He didn't look like a football player, he looked like a little kid dressed up like a quarterback for Halloween, swallowed up in his pads and his helmet and his jersey.

His growth spurt started to kick in before the end of his freshman year, his muscles aching with the first twinges of growing pains. He ran laps around his neighborhood, and he finagled a deal with his old middle school coach to work out in the weight room in exchange for helping out with the summer peewee league. His mother joked that he was going to eat them out of house and home; his sisters complained that there were never any snacks or leftovers anymore, but he couldn't help it, he was constantly hungry.

It wasn't until his mother needed to take his measurements for next year's uniforms that he realized how much he'd grown. Six inches taller, taller than his mother and both of his sisters, and his shoulders were too broad to fit into last year's blazer, and he had _muscles_ now, actual muscles.

His shoes tore through the soft manicured turf as he ran. He could already feel the differences from last year, how being taller and stronger and less clumsy made him play different, play better. His heart felt light in his chest, buoyant with joy.

Football was woven into his earliest childhood memories. Watching games on Sunday nights and falling asleep on the couch during overtime, bundling up to see the Bears play in the winter and squishing in between Desiree and Sarah to stay warm, playing in the peewee league and the elementary school team while his dad shouted encouragement from the sidelines.

The assistant coach blew his whistle, high and piercing. "All right, boys, that's good, that's good," Coach Horner called. "Take a break, get some water!"

Derek jogged back over to his water bottle and took a long swig, the water warm and tepid from sitting in the sun, but he didn't care. "Morgan, you're looking pretty good out there," another sophomore said. "Way better than last year."

"Last year, he was half the size he is now," another kid joked. "Are we sure that's even the same Derek Morgan?"

He grinned. "You guys are just jealous," he said, flexing proudly, and they laughed as he sat down in the soft grass and stretched out his long legs.

At the opposite end of the football field he could see the cheerleading tryouts, pretty girls flipping across the grass and calling out chants. He grinned. The girl-crazy hormones had kicked in last year, before the growth spurt, but he couldn't so much as hold a conversation with a girl, much less found a date to the homecoming dance. He'd ended up dragging Hotch along to keep him company, the two of them sitting on the sidelines and scowling- Derek because he couldn't get a girl to dance with him, Hotch because he had a history paper he wanted to work on instead.

He elbowed the sophomore next to him. "Who do you think is gonna get cheer captain this year?" he asked.

The sophomore next to him snorted. "Are you kidding?" he said. "Unless a professional suddenly sweeps in, you know who's gonna get it."

"And she's single now. She broke up with Maclain over the summer."

Derek sat up. "Are you shitting me?" he said.

"No, man, she dumped him."

Derek grinned. "Maybe one of us has a chance," he said.

"Are you kidding? She's practically got a force field around her."

"No, no, you don't understand," Derek said, leaning back into the grass on his elbows. "You gotta get the best friend on your side first. That's the trick. Get Harper Hillman to like you, and if Harper Hillman approves, that's gonna be your ticket to get to Alexa Lisbon."

The whistle blew again and he pushed himself off the grass, brushing off his shorts. There were more drills to be done, but his energy never flagged. If anything there was a second wind in his lungs now, propelling him forward. He could picture it clearly, starting on the varsity team, hearing his name announced before the game, showing everybody that Derek Morgan was a force to be reckoned with.

It was almost five when the last whistle blew. "Good work out there, boys," the coach called. "We'll have the list up in a day or two. Now get off the field, they've got to set up the carnival out here." Derek picked up his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. "Morgan, come over here a second."

He jogged over, his heart pounding in his chest. "Hey, Coach Horner," he said, trying to sound casual. "What's up?"

"You're looking pretty good out there, Morgan," he said. "Big improvement from last year."

He grinned. "Thanks," he said. "I worked pretty hard over the summer. And grew a little bit, too."

Coach Horner laughed. "Yeah, you did," he said. "Now, have you gotten to meet the new coach yet? I wanted to introduce you if you hadn't."

"No, sir, not yet," he said.

"This is our new coach, Carl Buford."

Derek held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Coach," he said.

Carl Buford smiled back at him and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you too, Derek Morgan," he said. "You're pretty impressive out there."

"Thank you," he said, the praise warm in his chest.

"Now, I can't say anything yet, but...I'm hoping to see you out on the field again soon," Coach Buford said with a conspiratorial wink. "Keep an eye out for that varsity roster."

He grinned. "I will!" he said. "I think it's gonna be a good year."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all this chapter is almost 10,000 words I am s c r e a m i n g
> 
> thank you so much for your comments and kudos!! and a special thanks to f-m27 on tumblr for letting me constantly scream my feelings (there's a lot of angst coming up. but also cute things!!)
> 
> my tumblr is themetaphorgirl; I have a pinned post of drabbles and more info about this verse, and I'd love to chat with you too!
> 
> up next: the back to school carnival, and new friends


	5. always pretty happy when I'm just kicking back with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a carnival is a really good place to make friends

_Oh well, I look at you and say it's the happiest that I've ever been_  
_And I'll say I no longer feel I have to be James Dean_  
_And she'd say, yeah well, I feel pretty a happy too_  
_And I'm always pretty happy when I'm just kicking back with you_

_And it'll be love, love, love all through our bodies_  
_And love, love, love all through our minds_  
_And it'll be love, love, love all over her face_  
_And love, love, love all over mine_

\--"Five Years Time," Noah and the Whale

* * *

"Guys, do we have to go to this stupid carnival?" Dave complained. "It's going to be lame."

"Stop fussing," James said. "It's going to be fun."

"It was fun when we were freshmen," Dave said, fiddling with his phone and squinting at the screen in the late afternoon sun. "We're seniors now, and this is lame."

"Well, I'm only a junior, and I've never been to a carnival before," Emily said.

"See? There we go, you're doing this for Emily," James said.

Dave rolled his eyes. "Fine, but someone's going to have to buy me ice cream," he said.

"One cone, single scoop," Emily bargained.

"Deal." Dave checked his watch. "How long is it going to take Miller to get ready?"

The doors to Roosevelt House opened and Alex ran down the steps. "I'm sorry, I'm here, I'm here," she said. "Thanks for waiting, I really didn't want to wear my school clothes to this thing."

She had swapped her uniform for a short sleeved white dress with a checked rainbow pattern and her boots for sandals, and her red hair was tied back into a ponytail with a ribbon. "Yeah, don't worry about it," James said, his smile wide. "You look great."

Alex smiled, swinging the strap of her bag onto her shoulder and smacking Dave in the process. "Ow, what do you have in there?" he complained.

"Books," she said. "At least three of them. Just in case."

"In case of what, a library emergency?" Emily said.

"Maybe, I don't know!" she said, grinning. "Let's just go, okay? I'm starving."

Dave trailed behind James and Alex as they headed down the path towards the football field, and Emily slowed her pace to match his. Unlike Alex in her summer dress, Emily had chosen a black tee shirt with the sleeves cut off, and black fishnets poked through the holes in her light wash jeans. "So," she whispered, peering conspiratorially at Dave over the rims of her round sunglasses. "How long has this been going on?"

"This?" he repeated. She gestured broadly at James and Alex. "Ah. The pining. Yeah, that started in ninth grade."

"You're shitting me," she said. "She hasn't figured it out? In three years? And he hasn't made a move?"

He stuck his hands in his back pockets. "Unfortunately, no, on both counts," he said. "I don't know how it's gone this long. But I told him I'd give him a hundred bucks if he asked her to the homecoming dance this fall, and she said yes."

"Ooh, I want in on that," she said. "I'm gonna put my money on prom. If he hasn't asked her out yet and she hasn't put two and two together, there's no way he'll move fast enough to ask her out before October."

"Oh, wow, ballsy," he grinned.

She stuck out her hand. "You want make this an official bet, Rossi?" she said.

"Absolutely," he said, shaking her hand. "It's a bet, Prentiss."

* * *

"Guys, are you sure you want me around for this?" Hotch said warily. "Carnivals aren't...exactly my scene."

"Absolutely!" Penelope said. Her pink heart-shaped sunglasses covered her eyes, but she beamed at him broadly. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

That wasn't the answer he was expecting, and he grinned back at her. "Wow, an actual smile," JJ teased. "And your face didn't crack. Good for you."

"Okay, guys, we gotta find out where the food is," Derek said, clapping his hands together. "I am _starving_ to death."

"That's hyperbole," Spencer said. "You had lunch today, you can't starve to death in that time window."

Derek laughed and ruffled his long hair. "You know what I mean," he said. "I...what's the scientific way to say it? Burned a lot of calories and I need to refuel. That better?"

"It's not exact, but it's close enough I guess," Spencer said, grinning impishly at him.

His sneaker caught in the grass as they walked down the hill and he stumbled; Hotch caught him by the back of the shirt, then took him by the hand. "Don't wander off too far, you guys," he said. "Remember, it's still a school night, we still can't stay out too late."

The football field had been transformed, covered with brightly colored snack stands and game booths as far as the eye could see, streamers and string lights waving overhead while the early evening sun was only beginning to sink down. The stadium speakers pumped out music and the air smelled like a summer barbecue.

Derek and the girls ran ahead, Penelope chattering a mile a minute, but Hotch slowed his steps so Spencer could keep up. "How was your first day?" he asked.

"It was fine," he said. "I'll have to actually do my homework here."

"What, you never did homework back home?" Hotch asked.

"I just did it during recess," he said. "I didn't have anything better to do."

Hotch frowned. "So last year you had recess," he said. "What grade were you in last year?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Fourth," he said. "I've never been so bored in my life. They tried to teach me how to do long division and the teacher made me read Where the Red Fern Grows for my book report instead of what I wanted to read."

"What did you want to read?"

"Lord of the Flies."

Hotch laughed. "Well, I don't know what I expected," he said. "But yeah, I can see why they didn't let a nine-year-old read that book." Spencer screwed up his mouth and looked away. "What's that face supposed to mean."

Spencer glanced around. "You can't tell anybody," he said.

Hotch tugged him to the side. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong, it's just…" Spencer fidgeted, scratching the back of his left leg with the top of his right foot. "I might have lied on my admission forms."

"You lied?"

"My mom lied," he corrected quickly. "I'm not ten. Yet."

Hotch knelt down and took him by the arms. "What do you mean, you're not ten yet?" he said.

Spencer sighed. "They wouldn't let me skip to ninth grade if I was only nine," he said. "Which means I couldn't go here. So I told- my mom told them that my birth year was wrong, and I was really ten, and then they let me in."

"So you're nine?" Hotch said, bewildered.

"I'll be ten in October!" he said. "You can't tell anybody though. They'll send me back home and I can't…" He stopped. "I don't want to leave."

Hotch squeezed his arms. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I won't tell anybody, but... _jesus,_ your mom let you come all the way out here by yourself?"

He nodded. "It's a good school," he said in a small voice. His lower lip dropped in a pout. "Please don't tell on me, Hotch."

Hotch sighed. Spencer's arms were skinny and birdlike in his grip, and he was suddenly, horribly aware of just how young and fragile he was. This was definitely more than he bargained for. He wasn't equipped to be in charge of an actual _baby._ "I'm not going to tell on you," he said. "But this means you've got to stick with me, okay? The kids in your class are a lot older and bigger than you. I don't want you getting into trouble."

"I can take care of myself," Spencer said. "I just don't them to find out that I'm not old enough. At least until October and then I'll be ten."

Hotch straightened up. "Yeah, I'm sure you can take care of yourself, but it can't hurt to have some backup, right?" he said. "Come on. Let's get something to eat before Derek eats everything."

"And then I'm going to get cotton candy," Spencer said.

"No, you don't need that much sugar."

* * *

"God, Emily, have you never had hot dogs before?"

"No!" she said. She slapped the top of the ketchup pump. "I had no idea what I was missing."

Alex laughed as she tossed her paper plate into a nearby trashcan. "So you're making up for lost time by eating four of them in one sitting?" she said.

"Five, and hell yeah I am."

"Do you want to know what's in them?" Dave asked.

"Absolutely not."

James slid his hands into his back pockets. "Where should we go next?" he said. "Besides getting Prentiss away from the hot dogs." She flipped him off cheerfully.

"We could go back to Kennedy House and watch TV in the air conditioning," Dave suggested.

"Oh, there's skeeball!" Alex said. She adjusted her bag across her shoulder. "I don't want to brag, but I'm pretty good at skeeball."

"Is that a challenge?" James said. Dave grinned and offered him a sly thumbs up.

Alex tightened her ponytail. "That's absolutely a challenge," she said. "You're on, Blake. Are you guys going to play too?"

"Sure," Emily said. "I'm always-"

"Uh...Emily, how would you feel about hot dogs if they were on a stick and deep fried in batter?" Dave said.

"Shut up, I need to try those," she said. "Where are they?"

"We're gonna go find some corn dogs," Dave said.

"Oh, and maybe some cotton candy," Emily said. "I definitely need some of that."

"Yeah, we'll get pick up cotton candy for everybody," Dave said. "We'll catch up with you guys in a little bit." He winked as he propelled Emily away, and James felt the back of his neck heat up in nervous embarrassment.

Alex didn't seem to notice as she dropped a quarter in the game's slot. She pressed the button to start and the wooden balls rolled down the chute. "You ready to have your ass handed to you?" she teased.

"Uh-huh," he said. "I mean...no, not at all." He fed a quarter to the game next to hers and pushed the button. "I haven't played in a really long time, I have a feeling I'm not going to be that great."

She grinned. "You see that?" she said. She pointed at the display of plush toys above the skeeball game.

"What, the bear?" he said.

"No, that stupid little owl," she said. "That's, what- two hundred tickets? I'm going to win that one."

"I'll just have to win that bear for myself, then," he said.

Alex picked up the first ball and tossed it gently in her hand. "Maybe I'll win the owl and the bear, what about that?" she said.

He smiled. "I'm fine with that," he said.

Alex drew her arm back and hurtled the ball up the ramp. James winced as it bounced off gently and dropped into the lowest-point goal. "That was just a practice one," she said.

"Yeah, sure, take your time," he said. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be right now."

* * *

Penelope stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed Derek's arm in a death grip. "What? What's wrong?" he said.

"Look at that!" she said, pointing across the way.

"What? What am I looking at?"

"That cat!" she said, jabbing her fingers towards the football toss game. Garishly colored stuffed animals dangled from the booth, and Derek sighed.

"Baby girl, you can't scare me like that, I thought you were about to be axe murdered or something," he said.

"But it's so cute!" she cooed. "Look at it! I need it."

JJ tossed another handful of popcorn in her mouth. "You have fifteen stuffed animals on your bed already," she objected.

"Sixteen, and I _need_ this one," she said. She dug in the pockets of her short overalls for more quarters. "I'm going to play that game all day if I have to."

Derek winked at her. "Don't worry about it, baby girl," he said. "Give me a quarter. I'll get you that cat."

He strolled over to the booth. A couple of girls in floral sundresses hung around, watching one of the senior boys throw a football through the hanging tire. "Hey, Derek," one of them said, looking up at him from her lashes.

"Hey, Harper," he said. "How were cheer tryouts?"

Harper rolled her eyes. "Stressful for no reason," she said. "It's my third year on the squad, you'd think they'd just let skip tryouts." She smiled, her teeth even and perfect against her pink lipstick. "You-know-who is definitely getting captain again this year too. But whatever, if I'm not captain I can still audition for the school musical." She elbowed the slender blonde girl beside her. "Haley thinks we're doing Big Fish."

"It's just a rumor," Haley laughed. "Hey, I saw you on the field today, Derek. You're really looking good this year."

"Yeah, rumor has it the new coach wants you for varsity," Harper said.

He grinned. "Yeah, you heard that?" he said. "Guess we'll have to wait and see when the roster drops."

Hotch caught up to them. "I was wondering where you guys ran off to," he said. "I thought we were-" He stopped midsentence. "Oh, uh...hi."

"Hi, Aaron," Haley said, smiling up at him.

Derek made a face. No one ever called Hotch by his first name. No one. Not even Gideon.

"Hey, um...Haley," he said. Maybe it was just the setting sun, but it almost looked like a pink flush was creeping up his neck.

"Harper, this is Aaron, he signed up for theatre club," Haley said.

Harper scanned him up and down. "Hm," she said thoughtfully. "Well, god knows we're always desperate for boys." She checked her phone. "Come on, Hay, Alexa's looking for us."

"Oh, okay," Haley said. "Nice to see you again, Aaron. And you too, Penelope! I'll see you at the first club meeting."

Harper linked her arm through Haley's and they walked off through the crowd. "Bye," Hotch said, almost as an afterthought.

"Okay, what was that about, Aaron?" Derek said.

That snapped him out of his reverie. "Don't call me Aaron," he said, irritated.

"Ooh, but you didn't mind when Haley called you that," JJ said.

Penelope's mouth dropped open. "Ooh, does this mean what I think it means?" she said.

The senior boy stepped away from the game; Derek handed his quarter to the bored kid at the booth and picked up the football. "It doesn't mean anything," Hotch said, the pink flush on his neck slowing rising to his cheeks.

"Oh, I think it does," Derek said. "Look at him. He's turning red."

"I'm not!" Hotch protested as he turned red. "I'm just...maybe I'm sick. I don't know. I'm stressed or something. Lyme disease."

"You don't have Lyme disease," JJ scoffed.

"You're not my doctor, little girl!" Hotch said. "Just...eat your popcorn and stop making that face." JJ shrugged, her eyebrow still raised skeptically, and tossed another handful in her mouth.

Derek adjusted his grip on the football. "All right, Penelope Garcia, you ready for me to win you that cat?" he asked.

"Yes!" she said, clapping her hands. "You can do it! I'm so excited!"

He tossed the football easily through the tire and Penelope shrieked in delight. "Yay, you won a prize," the bored boy running the booth said. "What do you want?"

"That cat!" Penelope said. "That one! That one right there!" The kid handed it over and she immediately cuddled it in her arms, then flung her arms around Derek. "Thank you so much, my handsome angel. He is the new love of my life, and you are my hero."

He grinned. "Any time, baby girl," he said.

JJ frowned. "Hey, Hotch?" she said. "You have Spencer, right?"

"Yeah, of couse, he's-" Hotch looked down. "Shit."

* * *

Spencer scanned the crowd. He'd only stopped for a second to tie his shoes, and when he looked up Hotch was gone. And it was really difficult to find someone in the crowd when he was elbow height at best.

He bit his lip. Really, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big of a deal. He could always find his way back to Lincoln House on his own. But he didn't want to think about it logically, he wanted to find his friends.

"So are you just in the habit of getting lost everywhere you go?"

He looked up, startled, to see a familiar face. "I"m not lost, Alex!" he said. "I know exactly where I am. Technically, it's the rest of my group that's lost."

Alex laughed and held out her hand. "Well, technically I guess you're correct," she said. He grabbed her hand and the beginning twinges of _you should probably panic_ died down immediately.

"Who's the munchkin, Miller?" one of her friends asked, a dark haired boy with sharp dark eyes.

"This is Spencer," she said. "Remember? Emily knocked him over the other night."

"I didn't mean to knock him over!" Emily protested.

"I know you didn't," he said. He frowned. "I liked your blue hair better."

"Yeah, you and me both, kiddo," she sighed.

Alex drew Spencer a little closer to her side. "Spencer, these are my friends, David and James," she said.

"Hi," he said tentatively.

"Do you know where your group was headed?" Alex asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure," he said. "I just stopped to tie my shoe and when I looked up Hotch was gone."

"Well, stick with us, then," James said. "We'll find them." He held out a bag of pink cotton candy. "Do you want this? I'm not going to finish it."

Spencer brightened. "Yes, please!" he said.

He let go of Alex's hand and took the bag, tearing off a soft handful and popping it into his mouth as they started walking. The sugar melted instantly and he smiled. The older kids chatted above his head. The sun was sinking behind the horizon a little more, the sky shifting from deep pink to a dark purple, and the humid air was a tiny bit cooler.

"Spencer! Where the hell did you run off to?"

He spotted Hotch crossing through the crowd, Derek and the girls following close behind him. "Hotch!" he called, and immediately shrank back. Hotch didn't look very happy. He wadded up the empty cotton candy bag and stuck it in his pocket.

"Where did you wander off to?" he asked as he caught up.

"I didn't," he objected. "I stopped to tie my shoe and you didn't see me."

"See? I told you it wasn't his fault," Derek said. "You okay, pretty boy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I ran into Alex again," Spencer said. He brightened. "Alex, these are my friends!"

"I met some of you briefly the other night, I think," Alex said.

They ran through introductions, and Spencer didn't miss the way that David and Hotch frowned at each other. He wasn't entirely sure why, though.

The others, though, seemed to hit it off. "I like your cat," Alex said.

"Thank you!" Penelope said, cradling her new toy like a mother holding a newborn baby. "Derek won him for me. I haven't decided on a name yet."

"Aaron," JJ suggested.

"Absolutely not," Hotch said flatly. He tugged Spencer's shoulder. "Thanks for finding him. Hopefully he won't wander off so much."

"I didn't wander off!" he protested.

Suddenly Penelope grabbed Derek by the arm. "Oh my god!" she shrieked.

He winced. "Baby girl, you gotta stop doing that, you're a lot stronger than you realize…"

"There's a bounce house!" she said. "We have to go! Right now!"

Emily whipped her head around. "Holy shit, I'm in," she said. "Who else is coming with us?"

"I'll go," JJ said.

"I don't think Penelope is giving me the option to say no," Derek said dryly. "What about you, kid?"

Spencer hesitated. "It's probably just a germ factory in there," he said.

"Yes, but a _fun_ germ factory," Emily said. "Come on, everybody, let's go."

Spencer found himself propelled towards the massive bouncy castle, trepidation building in his chest. He definitely wasn't sure about this. "You know, germs and viruses can survive on hard surfaces for weeks," he said.

No one heard him. "Penelope, I'll hold Aaron," Alex offered.

Hotch frowned. "Why would you...oh, you meant the cat," he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please don't name the cat after me."

"Too late!" Penelope said, handing the toy to Alex as she kicked off her shoes. "His name is Aaron now. Last name to be decided. Now come on, boy wonder, let's go."

Spencer took off his well-worn sneakers and placed them next to Emily's Doc Martens. There was a hole in the heel of his right sock, the striped one. "So if this thing hasn't been disinfected recently-"

"Forget the science, Jimmy Neutron, let's go!" Emily said.

* * *

James glanced from Hotch to Dave. The four oldest kids sat in the grass at a safe distance from the bounce house in awkward silence. Alex held Penelope's stuffed cat on her lap like a neon-colored toddler and balanced a book on her knee. "So you guys are all in Lincoln House?" Dave said.

"Yeah," Hotch said tersely. "I'm the seventh floor RA."

"Are you a senior?" James asked. "I know I've seen you around, but I don't think we've been in any of the same classes."

"Junior," Hotch said. "Derek's a sophomore, the girls and Spencer are freshmen."

"Spencer's...a little young, right?" James said. "It's not just me?"

"Oh, no, he's ten," Hotch said.

"Ten?" James repeated. "God, he's a baby."

"He's brilliant, though," Alex said, glancing up from her book. "He came to the library today, we had a nice little chat. He's a sweet kid, and so smart."

James could see Hotch's tense expression ease a little. "Yeah, he is," he said. "He and Derek are on my floor, so I guess I feel pretty responsible for both of them."

"Where did the girls come in?" Alex asked.

Hotch shrugged. "Honestly, no idea how that happened. They just sort of adopted me," he said. He pushed himself off the ground. "I'll be right back."

As soon as he was out of earshot Alex smacked Dave's arm. "Stop scowling," she said.

"I'm not scowling!" he protested.

"No, she's right, you are," James said.

Dave scratched the back of his neck. "Look, I'm sorry, but the Lincoln House kids just kind of set me on edge, okay?" he said. "They all got sent there for a reason, and the reasons make me nervous. Maybe Hotch is supposed to be in juvie or something."

James glanced over the bounce house as he tugged absently at the grass; JJ was turning backflips while Derek, Emily, and Penelope counted and cheered her on. "You can't be serious," he said. "They're nice kids, Dave."

Dave threw his hands in the air. "Maybe I'm wrong!" he said. "I don't know."

"You have got to get your head out of your ass, Rossi," Alex said, turning back to her book.

Spencer tumbled out of the bounce house and scrambled to his feet, grabbing up his shoes. "Hey, you okay?" James asked.

"It's gross in there," Spencer said, dropping down beside him. "It's fun, I guess, but every time I started to enjoy myself I remembered that it's disgusting."

Alex set her book aside and dug around in her bag. "Hold out your hands," she said, and when he obeyed she squirted a healthy amount of hand sanitizer over his palms. "Does that help?"

"Yes, thank you," he said gratefully, rubbing it over his hands. "What are you reading?"

Alex held up her textbook. "Trying to get a head start on my ASL class," she said.

"Oh, is that what you're taking for your language credit?" Spencer asked. "I haven't decided what I want to take yet."

"This is her sixth language class," James said. "Which ones have you taken, Al?"

"French, Spanish, Latin, German, and Russian," she said. "ASL is new this year, though. Plus I've learned a couple on my own time."

"Yeah, she and Dave both speak Italian and leave me out," James said, elbowing Alex playfully. "Emily's fluent too, but I'm hopelessly bad at languages. It took everything in me to slog through my language requirements."

Spencer brightened. "I want to learn!" he said. "Can you guys teach me? I can read in other languages if I have a dictionary, but speaking another language is completely different."

"I think we can manage that," Alex said. She glanced slyly at Dave. "What do you think, David? We can teach Spencer to speak Italian, and then four of can talk about James in front of him."

"Hey!" James protested.

Dave smiled. "Yeah, we can do that," he said. "Sorry, James."

James tossed a few loose blades of grass at him. "You're not sorry, don't lie."

"Yeah, you're right."

Hotch crossed over to them. "Here," he said, handing Spencer a bag of blue cotton candy. "Just the one, though, okay?"

"Thanks!" Spencer said, eagerly tearing into the bag. "Blue's my favorite flavor. There actually is a blue raspberry, the whitebark raspberry, but this isn't the correct shade. Really, it should be almost black, but that doesn't look quite as appetizing."

"No, I wouldn't imagine so," James laughed.

* * *

"So I think we should go on the slides next," Penelope said, half out of breath as they stumbled out of the bounce house like drunk frat boys leaving a wedding reception. "They look like fun."

Emily caught her balance against the squishy side of the bounce house. "You guys have fun," she called over the roar of the fan. She sighed as she jammed her feet back into her Docs. "I'm getting too old for this."

She slid her sunglasses back on and picked up her bag. It was probably a bad idea, since it was so busy, and it was absolutely against school rules, but...she hadn't been able to get away for a while now, and this was her best chance.

She snuck off to the edges of the football field and ducked under the bleachers. It was quiet and cool, almost dark, and she fumbled around in her bag for her pack of cigarettes and her favorite lighter. Even just the sharp scent was reassuring, and she sighed audibly in pleased relief.

It was so much easier to get away with her habit back home. Then again, she spent her afternoons after school roaming around with her friends, doing whatever they wanted, and if she stayed out late all she got was a quick scolding from her mother, too busy and distracted to do anything more than that.

She dug around in her back pocket with her free hand for her phone, opening the email app. The signal wasn't great anywhere on campus, and definitely not on the football field, but it was worth a shot. She tapped the cigarette, shaking off the ash, and waited for it load.

Nothing. Still no reply.

"You're not supposed to smoke on campus."

Emily jumped. "Holy shit!" she said. "How long have you been standing there?"

JJ crossed her arms. Somehow she managed to cut an imposing figure for someone so small and slight. "Long enough," she said. "You know you're not allowed to smoke on campus. And you're not eighteen, are you? How'd you buy cigarettes?"

"Fake ID," Emily admitted. She stopped and scowled. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You can't stop me."

"I can tell Hotch," JJ suggested.

She paused. "Okay, maybe you can stop me," she said. "All right. What do you want?"

JJ frowned, wrinkling her nose. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I assume this is an extortion attempt," Emily said. "Not my first. So what do you want in exchange for your silence?"

"Well, I went looking for you because Penelope saw a face-painting booth from the top of the slide and booked it over there," JJ said. A slow smile crept across her face. "Maybe if you got your face painted…"

"Oh, jesus, really?" Emily said. She sighed and ground out the cigarette under her shoe. "Okay, okay, fine. Don't tell Hotchner. He would tattle on me in a heartbeat."

"He's not that scary," JJ said as Emily followed her out from under the bleachers. "But yeah, he'd tell on you."

"Don't tell me he's not scary, he looks like his face might crack if he smiles," Emily said.

It was dark now, strings of lights and round paper lanterns casting a warm glow overhead, but the air still smelled like fresh popcorn and warm sugar. "Hey, I found her!" JJ called.

Penelope was already getting her face painted by a senior art student, lit by a propped up worklamp. "Oh good!" she said. "Emily what design do you want?"

"Oh, I don't think…" her voice trailed off as she looked down at JJ, who raised an eyebrow and shot her a knowing look. "Just pick something for me."

"Ooh!" Penelope exclaimed, nearly knocking the art student's elbow. "Sorry, sorry. I just got a little excited. I'll pick something good! Don't worry!"

Emily looked at the rainbow tiger stripes on Penelope's cheeks. "Oh, I'm worried," she said.

* * *

"You've almost got it," Dave said. "A little more of a roll on the _R_."

" _Grazie_ ," Spencer said again, frowning in concentration as he tried to copy him exactly.

"Much better," Alex said.

Spencer beamed. "It's so interesting to hear Italian spoken as opposed to reading it," he said. "Last year I read _La Divina Commedia_ in the original Italian, and I'm realizing that the pronunciations I was mentally using were completely wrong. I think I was reading it more like French. I don't speak French either, at least not yet, but I've read a couple of books in French. Victor Hugo-"

"All right, I think you've had enough sugar for today," Dave laughed. He and Alex had given Spencer what was left of their bags of cotton candy, and that might have been a mistake. "We might need to put you back in that bounce house to get some of your extra energy out."

"Oh, I'm fine!" Spencer chirped. "Teach me more things!" He tripped over his shoelaces, stumbling a little and righting himself quickly. "I want to learn sign language too, can I learn that?"

"Of course," Alex said.

Dave bit back a frown. No wonder Spencer kept tripping over his shoes- his off-brand sneakers were on the brink of falling apart, the colors faded, and the broken laces knotted together in several spots to keep them in one piece. He filed it away mentally to ask the kid's RA about it later.

It was dark now and some of the booths were beginning to close, but bright music still played on the field's speakers, and they were waiting for the others at the face painting booth. "It's a little dark to see," Alex said. "If you sit up here you can see me better. Can I pick you up?"

He nodded and she hoisted him up easily, setting him down to sit on the closed booth next to the face painting stand. "All right, so I'm going to teach you what I learned today," she said. "Honestly, this will be good practice for me too. So, this is _thank you._ "

Dave smiled as he watched Spencer copy Alex. He was a nice little kid, really. Smart and articulate. And he had to admit that Spencer's friends seemed like nice kids too, even the RA with the serious smile. Maybe Alex and James were right. Maybe the Lincoln House kids weren't all bad.

He paused. "Hey, where did James go?" he asked.

Alex looked around. "No idea," she said. "I didn't even see him leave."

"Maybe he started the drive home," Dave said. "It's getting late."

She frowned, disappointed. "No, he would have said goodbye," she said. "He always says goodbye. He's still around somewhere, I'm sure of it."

Dave rummaged around in his pocket for his phone and texted James. He'd been hoping that the carnival would be a good moment for James to finally get some alone time with Alex. Apparently that wasn't the case.

Penelope bounded over to them, dragging Emily behind her. "What do you think?" she asked.

Dave burst out laughing. "Prentiss, you look amazing," he said.

Her face was painted in an elaborate blue butterfly design. "I have glitter on me, don't I?" she said.

"So much glitter," JJ said. She had a floral pattern painted along her temples to her jawline, and Penelope had a full scale rainbow tiger face. "It suits you, I think."

"Spencer, you want to get your face painted?" Derek asked. Penelope had talked him into a blue and red Spiderman design across his cheeks. "C'mon, it'll be cool."

"I think they're closing, anyway," Hotch said.

Alex tilted her head. "Is that a Batman symbol in the middle of your forehead?" she asked.

He sighed. "It was the smallest design option they had, and Penelope wouldn't let me out of it," he said as he checked his watch. "Yeah, it's almost time to head out."

"Just a second, just a second," Penelope said. "What's your favorite color, boy genius?"

"Purple," he said warily. "Why?"

Penelope darted over to the stand, spoke quickly to the art student in charge, and ran back with a paint brush and a pot of purple paint. "Hold still," she commanded.

"It's cold!" Spencer objected, and she quickly painted a big purple heart on his cheek.

"There!" she said. "Perfect."

Spencer touched the paint on his cheek gingerly. "Thank you?" he said.

"Oh, there's James!" Alex said. "Where'd you go, Blake? We were wondering where you went."

James held both hands behind his back. "Well, I kind of wanted to play a couple more games before they all closed up," he said. "I might've accidentally won something."

"Really?" she said. "What did you win?"

He pulled a plush toy owl from behind his back, its embroidered eyes just ever so slightly crooked. "Here it is," he said.

"Oh, that stupid owl!" Alex exclaimed. She hesitated. "Wait. Are you giving him to me?"

"You've seen my room at home, where am I going to put him?" James said. He held it out, almost shyly. "You, um...you want him?"

"Yes!" she said. "Oh, he's so cute." She held it out to Penelope. "Quick, he needs a name. What does he look like to you?"

"Something classic, yet quirky," Penelope said. "Archimedes."

"Archimdedes it is," Alex said. She tucked the owl in her bag so his round little head peeked out. "Thank you, James. That's so sweet."

Dave tried to catch his eye, desperately trying to telegraph his thoughts to him. But James just smiled, dopey and nervous. "Any time," he said, and his voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat. "Glad I could, uh, help." Dave closed his eyes and shook his head. James was hopeless. And this point, he was definitely going to lose the bet to Emily.

Spencer yawned abruptly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand and smearing the purple heart on his cheek a little. "You okay?" Hotch asked.

Spencer frowned. "I'm just really tired all of a sudden," he said. "And my stomach hurts."

"Well, I did let you have that big bag of cotton candy," Hotch said. "I'm not surprised."

"Three," Spencer said miserably.

"How'd you get three bags of cotton candy?" JJ asked.

He shrugged helplessly. "People kept handing it to me!" he said. "And it's so good! But...yeah, my stomach hurts. And I'm tired."

"Ah, the sugar high has worn off," Dave said sagely.

"You want a ride back to the dorm?" Hotch asked. Spencer nodded; Hotch situated himself by the booth so Spencer could clasp his arms around his neck and lifted him onto his back. "All right, Reid. You've got to go to bed."

"This has been fun, you guys," Emily said. "I guess we'll see you around."

"Do you want to eat breakfast with us tomorrow?" Penelope asked. "We've claimed one of the good tables and there's plenty of room."

"Sure," James said. "Sounds great. Right, Dave?"

"Right," he said. "You guys seem like a lot of fun."

Hotch smiled at him, and without the solemnity of his usual expression he looked like a completely different person. "We'll see you guys tomorrow, then," he said, shifting a half-asleep Spencer on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all I love these sweet babes so much you have no idea
> 
> and now they're all friends!! I've been writing them as one big family group in my tumblr drabbles, so it's nice that now they're finally together. 
> 
> and there's still going to be some good adorable stuff, but we're getting into the angst too!
> 
> and now I need to go answer comments, because y'all are AMAZING and I love and appreciate your comments and I really want to answer to everybody!!
> 
> I'm on tumblr as themetaphorgirl if you'd like to chat or read the drabbles! I'll see y'all next Thursday!!
> 
> EDITED TO ADD: I’m starting to get a lot of comments here and on tumblr about whether or not this will be a Jemily fic. It will not because JJ is only fourteen and Emily is sixteen, and I’m not comfortable writing them in a dating relationship at those ages. I’m not ruling it out if I end up writing a spinoff or a continuation where they’re a little older, and I’m definitely planning on writing some storylines for Emily, but JJ is just too young for me to write them in a relationship in this specific fic! (Same for Spencer since I’ve been getting asks about him too; he’s only nine so I’m definitely not writing him in a relationship with anybody either!!!)


	6. heavy is the head that gets no sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The school year starts in earnest. Penelope joins too many clubs. And Spencer is hiding something.

_take this burden away from me_   
_and bury it before it buries me_

_many are the days I've wanted to cease_   
_lay myself down and find some relief_   
_heavy is the head that gets no sleep_   
_we carry our lives around in our memories_

-"Cold is the Night" by the Oh Hellos

* * *

Derek couldn't sleep. He stayed awake staring at the ceiling, listening to Spencer turning pages in his book in the dark, his mind running wild. He knew he was going to see his name on the varsity list in the morning, he just knew it, and he indulged in daydreams, picturing himself getting announced at the homecoming game, scoring winning touchdowns, winning awards, signing onto a college team at the end of his senior year. He stayed up all night, thinking.

At least he thought he stayed up all night.

His alarm went off, startling him awake, and he slapped it off. Late summer morning sunlight barely peeked out through the window, turning the edges of the horizon blue. Spencer raised his head from the sound of the alarm; he still held a book in his hand and more books were stacked neatly beside him.

"Is it time to get up already?" Spencer asked.

Derek rolled out of bed, tossing his sheets and blankets aside in lieu of actually making it neatly like he was supposed to. "Yeah, it is," he said. "Man, I didn't sleep at all last night."

"No, you did," Spencer said. He set his book aside and crawled out of bed, pulling his single thin blanket back into place. "You fell asleep around two."

"Really?" Derek said, wrinkling his nose. "How do you know?"

"You snore."

Derek picked up his uniform pieces, then paused. "Did you sleep at all last night?" he asked. Spencer just shrugged.

For once in his life, Derek was ready before anybody else, racing down the seven flights of stairs to wait for the others, his backpack on his shoulders. JJ made it down next, her blonde hair braided again and her mouth tugged down in a frown.

"Hey, Jayje!" he said. "You excited to see the rosters?"

"I guess," she said, hooking her thumbs in her backpack straps.

"You don't sound that excited," he said. "Come on, aren't you at least a little curious to see if you made it?"

"Curious, yeah, I guess," she said. "Not as excited."

Before he could press her further, Hotch and Spencer joined them. "You're early for once," Hotch said, checking his watch.

"I'm motivated," Derek said. "Rosters should be up before homeroom."

"Maybe they stuck you on second string JV again," Hotch said.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Come on, dude, have a little faith in me," he said. "I have a really good feeling about this."

Penelope clattered down the stairs. "I'm here! I'm sorry! I'm here!" she called. "I'm sorry, I completely lost track of time."

"You're fine," Hotch said. "But I have a feeling you and Derek are going to take turns running late all year."

"I'm usually on time for things," Penelope protested.

"No, you're not," JJ said.

"Well, we've got everybody here, so let's go!" Derek said.

He jogged out of the lobby without waiting for the others. They could catch up, it would be fine. Maybe they already had the lists up. The sooner he got there, the sooner he would know for sure.

He jogged up the steps, pushed open the double doors, and ran to the bulletin board in the lobby. "Nothing," he said aloud.

"God, Derek, can you slow down a little?" Hotch called. "It's too early for this."

He shoved the doors open. "They still don't have the lists up," he complained.

"Shit!"

He winced. "Sorry, Emily," he said. "I didn't see you there."

"Jesus, Morgan," Emily said, rubbing her forehead. "Hotch is right, it is too early for this."

Alex peered at the slight red mark. "You'll live," she said. Emily rolled her eyes. "Hey, is the offer still good to eat breakfast with you guys?"

"Yes! Absolutely!" Penelope said. She paused and looked around. "Right?"

"Sure," Hotch said. "Just you two?"

"Dave and James live off campus and commute," Alex explained. "Sometimes they join us for breakfast, and sometimes they slide into homeroom at the last possible minute."

Derek led them inside; it was early enough that it wasn't too busy. He let Penelope and JJ slide in before him and he grabbed a plate and a tray. "Did you guys try out for any sports?" he asked.

"Absolutely not," Emily said. "That requires entirely too much effort." She dropped her plastic tray on the rail. "The ambassador told me I had to do one extracurricular, and it was _not_ going to be anything that involves running around."

"Yeah, me neither," Alex said.. "I did concert band for a while, but let's just say that I'm better at appreciating music than playing it. And the library keeps me busy." She looked down at Spencer, struggling for the stack of plates. "Do you need a hand?"

"Yes, please," he sighed reluctantly. "I'm too short to reach."

Alex picked up a second plate and added it to her tray. "Just tell me what you want, okay?" she said.

"Did James or Dave try out for sports?" Derek asked.

Alex laughed. "God, I'd love to see Dave try out for something," she said. "James did track and field for a while, but he's hoping to get an internship at the hospital in town this year, so he's not doing much in the way of extracurriculars." She looked down at Spencer. "Waffle?"

"Yes, please."

Derek twisted around and nearly dropped his tray. "They're posting it," he said. "They're posting it!"

"Hey!" JJ protested as he grabbed her arm.

"Let's go, Jareau!" he said, dragging her along behind him. "We gotta see!"

His heart pounded in his chest. If his name wasn't on the varsity team...what if he didn't even make JV? "My name better be up there," he said.

"You made it!" JJ said, jabbing her finger at the board. "See? You made it!"

He followed her gaze, and sure enough- **Derek Morgan, 10th, Lincoln House** , printed in bold under the varsity list. "Holy shit!" he said. "I did it! Holy shit!" He scanned the board for the soccer teams. "And you did too!"

"Really?" she said.

"Yeah, look!" he said. He took her by the shoulders and gave her a playful little shake. "I told you I had a good feeling, JJ! C'mon, let's go tell them!"

The others were sitting at their normal table, Alex and Emily fitting in easily. "I'm on varsity!" he said, pumping his fist in the air. "And JJ made the soccer team!"

Penelope clapped her hands. "I knew it!" she said. "See? I told you both there was nothing to worry about."

"Thank god you didn't get stuck on JV again, I wouldn't be able to put up with your moping," Hotch grinned. "Congratulations, Morgan. And you too, JJ."

"Practice starts tomorrow!" he said as he plunked down in his seat.

Emily stabbed her fork in her scrambled eggs. "You're so excited, it's adorable," she said. "If only I could feel that kind of youthful joy again."

"You're only sixteen," Hotch said dryly.

"Yeah, same age as you," she said. She looked him up and down. "I think you're in the same boat as me. Ah, where has your youthful joy flown, my dove?"

Hotch paused, a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to his mouth. "I have plenty of youthful joy," he said.

"No, I'm pretty sure you were born a full-fledged adult," she said. "You were born with a business card in your hand, knowing what a fixed rate mortgage is."

Alex laughed. "Okay, come on, Emily, stop it," she said. "I'm sure you can find plenty of joy in debate club."

She sighed. "I regret it already, Alex," she said. "I regret it."

"I'm in debate club too!" Penelope piped up. "And Hotch is in drama club with me too!"

Emily turned towards Hotch, a smirk slowly spreading across her face. "Hotch is what now?" she said.

"I'm in eleven clubs!" Penelope said, not realizing what was happening. "Debate, theatre, ukulele, crafting, sculpture-"

"When are you going to have time to sleep?" Alex said. She glanced over at Spencer beside her. "Speaking of which. Did he not get any sleep last night?"

"I don't think so," Derek said.

"Probably all the sugar," Hotch said. "A kid his size shouldn't eat three bags of cotton candy."

Spencer had his head down on his folded arms. Alex rubbed his back lightly and he bolted upright. "What happened?" he said. "Did I miss something?"

"You dozed off," Alex said. "And JJ and Derek made their sports things."

Spencer sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, that's good," he said.

Derek ruffled his hair and he ducked his head. "I knew I was going to make it," he said proudly. "I'm going to call my mom at lunch, she'll be excited."

* * *

This was _not_ how she wanted to spend her Tuesday night.

Emily dragged herself down the hall. The main building was decidedly creepy at night, the wood-paneled halls half lit and casting strange shadows. _This place has to be haunted_ , she thought, trailing her hand along the slick polished banister. _Definitely super haunted._

The English classroom door was propped open, light spilling out into the hall and illuminating the construction paper sign that said DEBATE CLUB in big permanent marker letters. She peeked inside. The supervising teacher sat at the desk while about fifteen other students in a half-circle of chairs, looking slightly out of place in their normal clothes and munching on chips and cookies.

Penelope brightened, already a beacon in her pink dress and purple glasses. "Emily!" she said. "You're here! I saved you a seat!"

Emily sighed. "Hi, Pen," she said.

"Oh, a nickname, I love nicknames," she said. Emily sat down beside her. "Your boots are killer, oh my god. Are you excited? I'm so excited."

"You're excited about everything," Emily teased. "Excited is your default setting."

Penelope shrugged. "I like finding joy in things," she said.

The teacher behind the desk stood up and Emily scowled. "I don't think I can find any joy in this," she said.

"Hi, everybody," the teacher said. "I'm Ms. Strauss, and I'm supervising the debate club this year."

Emily slunk down in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're not a fan of Strauss?" Penelope whispered.

"Not in the slightest," Emily whispered back. "She's my head of house. And my English teacher. And she likes _rules_."

"Prentiss, please sit up and refrain from talking, you'll have time to talk in a moment," Ms. Strauss said. Penelope turned to Emily, her mouth rounding in a shocked little O. "So I thought it would be fun to start with a little icebreaker. I want everyone to find a partner." Penelope grabbed Emily's arm. "I want you to pretend you're going on a vacation, and I want you to tell your partner the one item you absolutely have to bring with you."

"Phone," Emily said immediately. "This is stupid."

"Hm," Penelope mused. "Maybe a sensible pair of shoes, if we're going someplace touristy and walkable. Or maybe sunscreen, if it's sunny? Or snacks."

"You pack snacks for an airplane?" Emily said. "You know they'll feed you on a flight, right?"

"Not if it's a cross-country road trip," Penelope said. "And in that case I'm going to need teddy grahams and goldfish crackers."

"All right, everyone," Ms. Strauss called. "Now we're all going to our vacation on a boat."

"Okay, definitely sunscreen," Penelope whispered.

"And then disaster strikes!" Ms. Strauss continued. "The boat has sunk and we must all swim to safety. Discuss with your partner which of your items you'll want to keep. And...go!"

"Your stupid sunscreen!" Emily said, throwing her hands in the air. "My phone would be completely waterlogged, and there wouldn't be any signal anyway. There. Debate over. Can we go?"

Penelope scrunched up her face. "This isn't much of a debate," she said. "I thought there would be a lot more arguing."

"God, I wish there was more arguing, that's what I came here for," Emily sighed.

* * *

Spencer gathered up his backpack as the bell rang. There was a trick to getting the zipper closed and it just wasn't working; he could probably just hold it closed until he made it back to his room.

Penelope leaned over his desk. "I'm going right to ukulele club after this," she said, holding out her instrument case. "Look at it! I found a pink one!"

JJ smiled. "It's really cute," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Do you guys want to start on our essays?" Spencer asked. He held his backpack carefully by his side as he followed them out of their classroom. "I have some ideas already."

"Oh, I would, but I have soccer practice," JJ said.

Penelope waved her ukulele case. "And I'm going to finally learn how to play this thing," she said.

He thought he was hiding his disappointment, but JJ patted his shoulder lightly. "We can work on it later," she said. "Maybe tomorrow after school?"

"Oh, no can do, I have theatre club with Hotch," Penelope said.

"Jesus, Penelope, did you leave yourself any time to get your homework done?" JJ asked.

Penelope blinked. "Of course, Jennifer. That's what homeroom is for."

"That sounds like a terrible plan," JJ said.

"It's not that uncommon, eighty-six percent of high schoolers procrastinate on their homework," Spencer offered.

"Maybe you'll outgrow it," JJ suggested.

"In college it goes up to eighty-eight percent."

"Well, we'll just have to work on weekends, I guess," JJ said. "See you guys later. I'm going to run laps in ninety-five degree heat."

"Oh, gross, good luck with that," Penelope said.

The girls split up, heading their separate ways. Spencer stayed where he was at the top of the stairs, tightening his precarious hold on his backpack. It wasn't a big deal, really. He could probably work better on his own, anyway.

"Move, Spencer Weed," a voice said sharply, and a hand yanked his backpack out of his grip.

"Hey!" he protested, but the canvas ripped, spilling its contents down the steps.

Neal and Dallas pushed past him on either side, shoving him roughly. "We told you to move," Neal taunted as they jogged down the steps, kicking his pencils.

Spencer clenched his hands into small tight fists. This was what he thought he'd escaped from. It wasn't supposed to happen here too.

He made his way down the stairs, quietly picking up his belongings and shoving them into what remained of his backpack. It was practically useless now, but he could manage it. It could be worse, really.

Someone knelt down beside him and he jumped. "Hey, kiddo," James said. "Did your backpack rip?"

"Yeah," he said.

James helped him pick up the last of his things. "Yikes, I think your backpack has seen better days," he said. "You might need a new one."

"Yeah, maybe," he said glumly. He straightened up, holding the backpack gingerly. "Thanks."

"Hey, I was going to head to the student union and get some coffee before I go to the library," James said. "Do you want to come with me?" Spencer hesitated. "My treat. I was going to pick up something for Dave and Alex anyway."

"Are you sure?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah, absolutely," he said. "Come on. You look like you need a little caffeine."

The student union was the newest building on campus, the exterior old fashioned and red-bricked to match, but bright and airy on the inside, carefully decorated and full of natural light. It had been a main feature on the St. Thaddeus website when he started doing his research for a new school, although it hadn't particularly caught his eye at the time.

The cozy coffee shop was tucked away in a corner, soft indie music playing on the speakers and students scattered around at the blond wood tables with their laptops and ceramic mugs, and the air smelled sweet and bitter-sharp all at once.

"Have you been to the Honeybean yet?" James asked. "It's pretty nice, they just added it last year. I don't think I could have gotten through finals without it."

Spencer shook his head. "I haven't really tried coffee before," he said. "What should I get?"

"Hm," James said. "Okay. Hot or cold?"

"Probably cold."

"Sweet or not sweet."

"Definitely sweet."

James laughed. "I can work with that," he said. He stepped up to the counter to order; Spencer hung back by his side and kept looking around, watching his surroundings.

"All right, my dude, here you go," James said. "Careful, though, it's pretty full."

Spencer balanced the cup carefully in his hand. The swirled whipped cream on top seemed promising. "What is it?" he asked.

James took the drink carrier with the other cups. "It's a blended white chocolate mocha," he said. "I think it's the sugariest thing on the menu." Spencer took a cautious sip. "What do you think?"

"It's good," he said, surprised. "But it could a little sweeter. There's a kind of...burnt-ish aftertaste."

"That's the coffee," James said. "You'll get used to it."

"Or I'll cover it up with sugar," Spencer said. He took another sip. "Yeah, this is really good."

He finished a third of his drink by the time they made it to the library. "Hey, I come bearing gifts," James said, setting the drink carrier down by Dave's elbow.

"Oh, thank god," Dave said. "You're a gift, Blake."

"Where's Alex?" James asked, picking up his iced tea.

"I don't know, some kind of Dewey decimal emergency," Dave shrugged. "Whatever it is that teenage librarians panic over." He raised an eyebrow. "Hey, little one. Did you really need that much sugar?"

"It's good!" Spencer said. He sat down next to Dave, his feet dangling above the floor. "I think I feel a little more awake."

"Oh, you need sugar and caffeine like I need a hole in the head," Dave said. "James, did you really give him coffee?"

"Why? Are kids not supposed to drink coffee?" James asked, perplexed.

Alex stomped over to them, shoving the shelving cart out of her way. "Oh my god, if I have to explain how alphabetical order goes by last name and not first name one more time I am going to explode," she said. "Oh, you got coffee?"

James handed her a drink. "Iced chai latte," he informed her.

"Bless you," she said. "How many shots?"

"Three."

"Shots of what?" Spencer asked.

"Espresso," Alex said. She frowned. "James, did you get Spencer coffee?"

"Okay, did I mis something?" James said. "My mom has been giving me coffee for as long as I can remember." He frowned. "Wait, does coffee stunt your growth? I think I heard that somewhere."

"No, that's a myth," Alex said. "But he probably shouldn't have so much caffeine. He won't sleep."

"Oh, I don't sleep that much anyway," Spencer said. "I feel more awake now, though." He set his backpack down on the table. "I'm going to see how much work I can get done on my English essay."

"See? He's fine," James said.

"If he starts bouncing off the walls, I'm blaming you," Alex said, smoothing her hand over Spencer's untidy hair.

* * *

Hotch hovered outside the theater door. This was a bad idea. This was a very, _very_ bad idea.

"What do you mean? This is a great idea," Penelope said cheerfully.

"Oh, god, did I say that out loud?"

"You sure did."

Hotch sighed. "Penelope, I shouldn't be here," he said. "I don't know anything about theatre."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure you've done some kind of school play," she said. "At least one?"

"I was supposed to be a monkey in The Wizard of Oz when I was six," he said. "I got the stomach flu."

"See, that's not-"

"I faked it," he said flatly. "The costume was stupid and I couldn't remember my line. My one line."

Penelope screwed up her face. "Okay, it is that bad," she said. "But at least you're motivated this time."

"Motivated by what?" he asked.

"Your crush on Haley Brooks."

He choked. "I do not have a crush on Haley Brooks!" he protested.

She linked her arm through his. "Your protests are adorable," she said. "Come on, Hotch. You're going to your first drama club meeting whether you like it or not."

He stifled a groan as she marched him down the center aisle of the house. About thirty other kids were on the stage, stretching and harmonizing loudly to a Broadway cast recording, trying to outdo each other. He tried to slow down, dragging his steps.

"Nope, nope, nope, keep going, Hotchner," Penelope said, propelling him up the stairs. He immediately found a spot in the back, away from the bright circle of stage lights, and sat down on the floor. She sat down beside him. "Don't worry, this isn't going to be terrible."

"No, this is terrible," he said. "I think I-"

He paused. Haley was standing by the speaker in a black tank top and hot pink shorts, her blonde hair tied up in a perky ponytail. She laughed at something Harper Hillman said, and his whole heart melted.

Penelope tipped his chin, closing his mouth. "Easy, tiger," she teased.

He swallowed hard. "I might be sick," he said. "I should go back to my room. I have homework to do anyway."

"You finished all of your homework," she said. She touched her hand to his forehead. "And you're not sick."

"No, no...I think I am," he said. "I should probably-"

"Hi, Haley!" Penelope called.

Haley glanced at her, then crossed to her with a smile. Hotch shrank down. "Penelope Garcia, _no_ ," he hissed. She smiled sweetly at him.

"Hey, guys," Haley said.

"Hi, Haley," Penelope said. "Congratulations on making the cheer squad."

Haley sat down beside them and stretched out her slim legs. "Thanks!" she said. "It was really tough this year. I got a little nervous."

"I'm, um, I'm sure you did great," Hotch blurted out.

Haley tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you," she said, almost shyly. Hotch smiled at her.

Harper Hillman switched off the cast recording and half the kids groaned. "Okay, you guys, cut it out," she said. "We're still waiting on the teacher, so in the meantime, we're going to play a game." A couple of kids shouted out suggestions. "No, ew, stop. We're going to play bippity bippity bop."

Apparently that was a good suggestion, judging by the cheers as everyone popped up off the floor. Hotch leaned over to Penelope. "What the fuck is that?" he whispered.

"It's a game, it's fun, stop freaking out," she whispered back.

He gritted his teeth. "It's easy," Haley said. "Harper's going to point to people and say 'bippity bippity.' If she points to you, you have say 'bop' before she finishes it. If she points to you and only says 'bop,' you can't say anything. If you say anything, you're out."

"And this is fun?" he said warily.

"Oh, that's just level one," Penelope said.

"There's more levels to this?"

Harper stood in the middle of the circle, almost as if she was holding court. The real theatre kids seemed to take it seriously, almost too seriously, half-crouching like runners at a starting line. Hotch flexed his hands. He was painfully conscious of Haley next to him, and he hadn't felt this gangly and awkward since his first growth spurt when he was eleven and kept running into doors because he couldn't remember how his limbs worked.

Harper pointed at him. "Bop," he blurted out, and she laughed at him.

"You're out, Lincoln House," she said, pointing to the wings. "Go on, shoo."

He reddened in embarrassment and stalked away, crossing his arms. This wasn't worth it. Haley Brooks was never going to notice him the way he wished she would, and this game was stupid, and he needed to focus on his schoolwork anyway.

Haley walked over to him. "Don't take Harper seriously, she's kind of snotty, but she's not that bad," she said.

"She's pretty bad," Hotch said.

Haley scrunched her nose. It was adorable, and he kind of felt like he might throw up. "Yeah, she is," she confessed. "But don't worry about it. Everybody else is super nice. And I think you'll pick up on this theatre stuff pretty quickly."

He looked down at her. "You think so?" he said.

She hip-checked him lightly. "Yeah, I think so," she said, and he smiled at her.

* * *

Derek trudged into the seventh floor common room, dragging his football bag behind him. "I'm exhausted," he announced.

"Good for you," Hotch said absently, not even glancing up from his homework. "Don't you dare leave your gear out here."

"Come on, cut me some slack, I've had practice every night this week," Derek protested. "They might start me in the first game of the season."

Hotch looked up. "Oh, that is good," he said. "Good for you."

"I'm gonna take a shower and crash," Derek said. "I seriously haven't been this tired ever in my life."

Hotch flipped a page in his math textbook. "All right, have a good time," he said absently.

Derek hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. He wasn't lying, he really was exhausted. At least it was Friday night and he could sleep in.

The door to his dorm room was closed but unlocked; he opened it up to find the lights on and Spencer asleep, curled up on top of his blanket like a kitten. He tiptoed into the room as quietly as he could manage. In the whole week, Derek had never caught him asleep. Usually Spencer stayed up reading a book with a small dollar store flashlight, and during the day his eyes were ringed with dark circles. If the kid could finally doze off, he would definitely do what he could to keep him asleep.

Derek set down his bag carefully and dug around in his drawers for clean clothes. At least showering this late at night meant that he could probably have the bathroom all to himself. Maybe he could even rig up his phone and play some music.

A soft noise caught his attention and he turned around. Spencer fidgeted, his mouth tugging down as he curled himself into a small, more protective little ball. "Hey, kid," he said. "You awake? You need to go back to sleep."

Spencer shifted around, mumbling under his breath. Derek set his clothes down. "Reid, you okay? he asked.

Suddenly Spencer bolted upright and screamed, too bright and blood curdling. Derek stumbled back. "Holy shit!" he said. "Kid, it's okay, I promise, it's okay."

He reached for him tentatively and Spencer scrambled back, covering his face. "Don't, don't, don't!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Don't what?" Derek said, bewildered. "You're okay! Stop screaming!"

Hotch ran into the room. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

"I don't know, he just started screaming!" Derek said. "I don't what's happening!"

Hotch sat down beside Spencer and placed his hand on his knee. "Spencer, you're safe," he said, giving him a little shake. "It's just a bad dream."

Spencer's eyes flew open. He blinked unsteadily, his last scream dying in his throat, and unexpectedly he reached out and grabbed Hotch's arm. Hotch covered his small hand with his large one. "You're safe, Spencer," he repeated. "You're okay."

Spencer exhaled slowly. "'m sorry," he mumbled. His lower lip trembled and he pulled his hand away. "'m sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Derek said. "Is something wrong?" Spencer shook his head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hotch asked.

Spencer shook his head again and fumbled for a book. "I'm just going to read for while, I think," he said, his voice wobbling.

Derek caught Hotch's eye. There had to be something bad that kept that kid from sleeping and made him wake up screaming like he was getting axe murdered. But Spencer rolled onto his side and cuddled against his thin pillow, his face turned away from them, clearly not about to talk about whatever he was hiding.

They would just have to figure it out later. Just not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh lord I squeaked this out at the eleventh hour but I am so tired!! I went back to work this week and I was definitely not prepared to be out and about in the hot sun.
> 
> this chapter is still pretty cute, but I'm starting to draw in some of the angst I've been promising. I'm going to be mean to the poor babes
> 
> also as a lifelong theatre kid, bippity bippity bop is terrifyingly intense. I have a feeling Hotch eventually gets good at it. 
> 
> also a special shoutout to f-m27 and criminalmindsgonewrong on tumblr for being my cheerleaders!!


	7. be okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ struggles with soccer. Penelope makes a group chat. Alex starts to wonder if something might be wrong with Spencer.

_I just want to be okay, be okay, be okay_   
_I just want to be okay today_

_I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today_   
_I just want to feel something today_

_Open me up and you will see_   
_I'm a gallery of broken hearts_   
_I'm beyond repair, let me be_   
_And give me back my broken parts_

-"Be OK" by Ingrid Michaelson

* * *

"Jareau! Focus!"

JJ gritted her teeth. Sweat dripped lazily down the back of her neck, soaking into her tank top. She probably should have put on sunscreen- most likely she was going to end up burned, or at least faintly pink- but at this point it was too late.

The coach blew the whistle and JJ half-crouched, priming herself to take off. She could do this. They wouldn't have put her on the team if she couldn't do this.

She ran through the drill, her brand new cleats slipping against her heels. Why was this so hard? It shouldn't be so hard. No one else seemed to be struggling. Just her.

The coach blew the whistle again, sharp and piercing. "All right, all right, we're gonna call it a night here," she called. "Practice again tomorrow, 3:30 sharp. Jareau, come see me."

The other girls immediately dropped out of their game faces, breaking into laughing conversations as they strolled over to the bleachers to pick up their bags and water bottles. JJ ducked past them, squaring her narrow shoulders as she walked over to the coach busy with her clipboard. She waited for a moment, nervous impatience building in her chest.

"Jareau, you seemed a little lost out there," the coach said. She bit her lip. "You did so well in tryouts. I figured you'd catch on a little faster."

"I'll do better," JJ said.

"How many years have you been playing?" the coach asked.

She hesitated. She'd been dreading this question. "This is my first team," she confessed.

The coach did a doubletake. "Seriously?"

"I've been playing since I was little, but just for fun," she said quickly. "This is my first time playing on a real team."

The coach sighed. "Well, I'm gonna need to you to work a little harder to catch up to the other girls," she said. "Talent can't make up for a lack of experience, and your teammates have all been playing for years. We've got our first game coming up next week, so I'm gonna need you to put a hundred and ten percent into this. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," JJ said.

"As it stands, there's no way I can start you in the first game. A little practice and you can get there, though, so use that as motivation. You have a lot of potential, but potential can only take you so far."

JJ dug her fingernails into her palms, clenching her fists tight. "Yes, ma'am," she said again, a little quiet, a little tighter.

The coach shuffled her pages on the clipboard back into order. "See you tomorrow, then," she said. "That's all."

She turned away, the conversation over, but JJ stayed there for a moment before turning and walking away to pick up her bag from the bleachers, the last one left behind.

The girls' locker room was nearly empty already by the time she got there, just a few stragglers struggling into their shoes, the air heavy with the scent of dry shampoos and floral body sprays. She slipped unnoticed into the far corner she'd claimed for herself.

The last of her teammates left, flicking off the lights, and she froze, her shirt half over her shoulders. "Hey!" she shouted. "I'm still in here!"

But the door closed anyway. She pulled her shirt down, the fabric stretching too taut. "Shit!" she said aloud, her voice echoing, and she stomped over to the switch and flipped the white fluorescent lights back on.

It wasn't like she'd joined the team to make friends, but they could at least acknowledge she existed.

JJ changed quickly into clean shorts and a tee shirt, cleaning up as best as she could and shoving her practice clothes into her bag. She yanked the elastic out of her hair without mercy, taking several strands with it. The ponytail collapsed around her shoulders and she didn't bother tying it back or braiding it neatly; she dragged her brush through it a couple of times before tossing it haphazardly back in her bag. She slung the strap over her shoulders, tugging it into place as she turned off the lights and left the locker room.

The belltower chimed six-thirty as she crossed the courtyard. The sun hadn't even begun to go down yet and humidity clung to her skin. After she grabbed something for dinner she'd take a shower, and work on her science homework, and maybe if Penelope didn't stay up too late watching TV while she played on her computer she could get a decent amount of sleep.

She slipped into the busy dining hall, turning her bag around so it hung behind her, pressing into the backs of her thighs. Her stomach growled, startling her. She hadn't realized how hungry she was- but lunch had been a long time ago, and all she'd eaten had been a bag of Doritos and a handful of chocolate chip cookies.

"JJ! There you are!"

She glanced over and saw Penelope waving from across the room. "We saved you a seat!" Derek called.

She wended her way through the sea of tables and hung her bag on the empty chair between Penelope and Hotch. "We were wondering where you were," he said, scooting over to make room for her.

"Sorry, practice ran a little late," she said.

"Go get dinner, then, you've got to be starving," Hotch said.

Emily leaned across the table. "Get me more rolls," she said. "Like...a _lot_ of rolls."

"Oh, me too, please," Spencer said. He turned to Alex. "How do I say _that_ in Italian?"

JJ smiled a little to herself as she walked up to the line and picked up a plastic tray. Dinner didn't look that great- some kind of baked chicken- so she settled for mostly roasted potatoes and macaroni and cheese, and a plate of rolls for Emily.

She set them down in front of her before she sat down. "Is that enough?" she asked.

Emily brightened, saying something in fluid Italian, and Spencer immediately parroted it back, his accent flat and almost a little nasal. "No, no, not like that!" Emily laughed.

"Didn't I say it right?" he said, perplexed.

"I mean, technically you said all the syllables, but Jesus, your accent," she said. She picked up a roll and handed it to Spencer, then picked up one for herself. "Thank you, Jayje, you're an angel."

Spencer turned to Alex. "Was that not right?" he said.

"Almost," she reassured him.

Hotch frowned. "JJ, you have to eat actual food," he said.

She scooped up a forkful of mac and cheese. "This is real food," she said.

"JJ, you just spent...what, three hours running around in the heat?" he said. "Please. Eat protein. Vegetables. Something of nutritional value."

She stuck the fork in her mouth. "You're not the boss of me," she said.

"JJ, just let him win, trust me," Derek said.

Hotch sighed. "Come on, somebody back me up on this," he said.

"You need to rebuild your glycogen energy stores after exercise," Spencer said, yawning. "Moderate carbohydrates, proteins, and healthy fats."

Hotch gestured broadly at him. "See? What Spencer said," he said.

"What do you know about exercise?" JJ said.

"Yeah, you were the last one to finish the mile in gym class today," Penelope added.

Spencer scowled. "You were second to last," he said.

"Anyways," Derek said as he got up from the table. "I'm getting seconds anyway. What do you want, JJ?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Tonight's options are green beans, zucchini, or carrots," Hotch said.

JJ made a face. "I told you, just let him win," Derek said, flashing her a charming grin.

"Fine," she said. "Carrots. The least gross of those options."

"You got it, baby girl," he said before disappearing into the crowd.

Penelope twisted around in her chair. "Hey, I thought I was your baby girl!" she called. She sank back down in disappointment. "Apparently not."

Emily tore off a piece of her roll and popped it in her mouth. "Hotchner, you've been at this school for a while, right?" she said.

"Yes?" he said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"Is it normal to get so much homework on the first fucking week of school?" she said. "I already have a paper due on Friday and trig homework on Thursday. And some useless shit for French class, but they placed me in French I, so I don't really care about that."

Alex scrunched up her face. "French I?" she repeated. "Aren't...aren't you fluent in French?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm sure as hell not telling anybody that. It's the easiest A I'll ever get in my life. Maybe the only A."

"First of all, yes, they give us a lot of homework," Hotch said. "It's a college prep school, what did you expect?"

"Not this," Emily said. "My school in Rome didn't give a shit."

"Second of all, can you please stop swearing?" Hotch said, exasperated. "I don't want the younger kids picking up on it."

"I can swear," Penelope piped up.

"Okay, I don't want Spencer picking up on it."

Alex glanced down. "We're in the clear the moment," she said. "I think he's asleep."

Derek leaned around JJ, nudging her empty plate out of the way and replacing it with a full. "There you go," he said. "And don't worry, Penelope, you'll always be my number one baby girl."

"Shut up!" Hotch hissed. He nodded towards Spencer. The smallest of their group had his head down on the table, resting on his folded arms.

Derek's eyes went wide. "Oh, shit, let him sleep," he said.

"Why?" Alex said. "He just fell asleep at the dinner table. That's not normal."

Hotch hesitated. "He…"

"He's got insomnia real bad," Derek said. "He stays up all night reading. And last night he-" Hotch shook his head and Derek sat back in his chair. "He's just having a rough time."

"Maybe he's just homesick," Alex suggested.

"Maybe," Hotch said, but he didn't sound like he believed it. "We'll just let him sleep for now. JJ, eat."

JJ looked down at her plate. The carrots didn't seem too terrible, they were coated in a shiny glaze. She took a small bite. "Okay, they're not _awful,_ " she said. "But...they're not great, either."

"Just eat them," Hotch sighed.

* * *

Dave felt his pocket buzz and dug out his phone, squinting in the sunlight.

**unknown**

**3:07pm  
** _yoooooo study group in the library_

"What the hell?" he mumbled to himself.

**unknown**

**3:08pm**

_this is emily btw_

**unknown  
3:08pm  
** _bring snax_

 **Unknown  
3:09pm  
** _dont tell al_

"What is happening right now?" he said aloud, stopping in the middle of the courtyard. His phone buzzed in his hand.

**Alex Miller  
3:10pm**

_Emily, if you don't want me to know, don't text it in a fucking group chat_

**Alex Miller  
3:10pm**

_But yes, Dave, please bring snacks. J and I are working on college apps and we're ready to die_

Dave turned around, doubling back over the courtyard. "All right, all right, point taken," he said to himself.

He didn't understand why James and Alex were so worried about colleges. They were both brilliant, with their grades and test scores and personal essays they could both easily make it into any school they wanted. There was no point in stressing.

He ducked into the student union and grabbed some of their usual choices. After a moment he went back and picked a couple more packs of candy. He didn't know Emily nearly as well as he knew James and Alex, better to cover his bases.

 **David S. Rossi  
3:22pm  
** _all right snacks procured omw_

He hit send and headed back towards the main building. Inside the air was crisp and cold, especially in comparison to the sweltering heat outside, and he sighed audibly in relief.

He jogged up the broad stairs, not bothering to hold onto the polished handrail. Now that classes were over for the day, the halls were quiet and empty, a couple of students straggling here and there.

He rounded the corner and stopped. A small figure stood in front of the water fountain, frantically scrubbing at a wet blazer. "Hey, Spencer," Dave said. "Everything okay?"

Spencer whipped around. "Huh?" he said. "Oh. Hi." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, everything's okay."

"Is there a reason you're trying to drown your uniform blazer in the water fountain?" he asked.

Spencer sighed. "I just...spilled some stuff on it," he said. "Apple juice. It's sticky. And I don't even like apple juice."

Dave held out his hand, beckoning gently. "Switch with me," he said. Spencer reluctantly handed over the blazer and took the plastic carrier bag full of snacks. Dave examined the back of the tiny jacket. "It doesn't look stained. Should be fine." He leaned his elbow on the button to activate the fountain and rinsed it out again, then wrung it out firmly until no more water leaked out. "Just let it dry and it'll be good as new in time for class tomorrow."

"Thanks," Spencer said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He was struggling to hold onto the bag and his backpack at the same time; Dave took the carrier bag back.

"Are you in Emily's group chat?" he asked.

Spencer shook his head. "I don't have a phone," he said.

"Ah," Dave said. "So you definitely didn't get her text. Well, everybody's in the library studying if you want to come."

"Okay," Spencer said, almost surprised. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Dave said.

Spencer still held his backpack in his arms instead of slinging it onto his shoulder as they walked down the hall. "They really like assigning papers here, don't they?" he said. "My old school used to just give us worksheets for homework. We weren't supposed to start writing papers until next year."

"Really?" Dave said. "They didn't make you write papers until tenth grade? That's strange."

"Oh, no, I was supposed to start fifth grade this year," Spencer said. "Our first research paper was supposed to be sixth grade, to get us ready to start middle school."

Dave raised an eyebrow. "So you skipped over four grades and you can't even drink your apple juice without spilling?" he teased.

A shadow crossed Spencer's face. "Uh-huh," he said, offering a crooked little half smile. Dave somehow got the feeling he'd said something wrong, but he wasn't entirely sure what had gone wrong.

"Don't worry, _caro_ ," he said. "You're in good hands. Alex's a genius at writing papers, I'm sure she'll help you. Last year she tried to pull an all-nighter to write a fifteen page paper for a final, but she was done before two in the morning. I don't think she even used correct sources, she just wrote it off the top of her head and added the sources later."

Spencer laughed. "What was the topic?"

"Scottish playwrights. I don't think I could even name one Scottish playwright, much less write a fifteen page paper about them without extensive research."

"Oh, well, there's Sir J. M. Barrie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Lord Byron-"

"All right, kid, all right, I got it."

* * *

Alex rubbed her temples. "I don't think I've done enough extracurriculars," she said, flopping back on the couch, her arms folded over her stomach. "God, I never thought I'd say this, but I wish I'd stuck longer in concert band."

"You were in band?" Emily snickered. She sat on the floor, propped up on her elbows. "What instrument?"

"Clarinet," Alex said. "And I wasn't any good at it."

"No, you weren't," James said absently, squinting at his laptop screen. "God, if I can just get approved for the internship at the Auden's Ridge hospital. That would look _so_ good on my applications."

"I'm just glad I'm a junior and I don't have to worry about any of this," Emily said. She waved her French homework at Alex's ear. "I'm gonna work on this. Did you know that _le chien_ means dog? I'll never pass this class."

Alex pushed the papers away. "You can laugh now, Prentiss, but it'll be your turn soon enough," she said.

"Yeah, Emily, we have to register for SATs," Hotch pointed out.

"Well, fuck," she scowled. Hotch rolled his eyes. "You keep doing that, your face will freeze like that. The only kid here is Penelope, and she already knows how to swear."

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Penelope said promptly from her spot curled up in an armchair, not even looking up from her iPad.

"Jesus," Hotch muttered under his breath.

Alex sat up as the doors opened, but she relaxed when she saw Dave walking in with Spencer at his side. "Hey, guys," Dave said, holding up a completely full carrier bag in one hand and Spencer's blazer in the other. "I got snacks." He paused. "Hopefully I got enough. Are Morgan and Jareau here?"

"No, they're at football and soccer," Hotch said. He held up his phone. "I got a text saying there was a study group happening. I'm not sure why I actually listened. Or how anybody got my phone number."

"You're welcome," Emily said. "I have my ways." Penelope cleared her throat. "Okay, fine. Penelope pulled everyone's numbers for me."

"You're welcome," Penelope said sweetly.

"We need a name for this group chat, by the way."

Dave draped Spencer's jacket over a chair and dropped the bag between James and Alex. Emily immediately dug into the contents and cheered in victory when she pulled out a bag of swedish fish. "So you guys are working on college applications?" he said.

"Trying, at least," James said glumly. "At this point, it's more scholarship applications than anything else."

"You'll both be fine," Dave reassured them. "You're both going to get so many acceptance letters you won't know what to do with them."

Alex slid down farther on the couch. "You say that now," she said.

Truthfully, she was kind of overwhelmed. She knew what her family's finances looked like, she knew how many sacrifices they made to send her to St. Thaddeus, even with her scholarship and her library job. Now that she was trying to apply to colleges, all she could see were the numbers. Maybe she could earn a free ride, but who knew if she would end up at a college she actually wanted to attend?

"Ugh. I'm going to take a break," she said. "I've got homework I should get done."

"Did you learn anything new in your ASL class?" Spencer asked hopefully.

She laughed and patted the spot beside her. "A couple new things," she said. "Come here, I'll teach you."

He clambered up beside her, tucking his feet underneath him. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his tie was decidedly crooked. Alex opened up her binder. "Here, I'm going to teach you the new vocab I learned," she said. "It'll be good practice for me too."

Spencer was such a fast learner, even if his small hands were a little bit clumsy. He copied her motions exactly, his face scrunching in concentration and his hair falling in his eyes. After a while Emily pushed herself up, tossing her candy aside.

"Okay, I can't take it anymore," she said. "You look like a sheepdog."

She got up off the floor and stood behind Spencer, gathering his hair in her hands. "What are you doing?" he asked, confused.

"Hold still," she said. She fingercombed his hair back into a small ponytail at the crown of his head and tied it off with a neon blue hair tie. "There. Can you see now?"

He reached back and patted it gingerly. "I've never had a ponytail before," he said.

"Well, you do now," Emily said, taking her seat back on the floor.

"Do I look weird?" he asked.

"No, you're adorable," Penelope reassured him, and his cheeks turned faintly pink.

Alex leaned back, resting her elbow on the arm of the couch and dropping her chin in her hand. "Dave, I should have told you to get coffee," she said.

"Yeah, too late for that, I'm not going back out," Dave said. "You're on your own, Miller."

She drummed her fingertips against her jawline. "Maybe I'll get a coffeemaker and keep it on my desk," she mused. "I don't think anybody would notice."

"They'll notice when they smell coffee brewing out of nowhere," James said dryly. She picked up one of Emily's swedish fish and tossed it at him; he caught it in his mouth and grinned.

"Hey, uh…Alex?"

Alex turned around. "Oh, no," she said. "What now, Anderson?"

Anderson fidgeted, looking sheepish. "Uh...so you know how there's the one shelf in the nonfiction section that's a little wobbly?" he said.

"Yes, the six hundreds, go on," she said, eyes narrowing.

"I might be propping it up with a couple of dictionaries and my shoe."

"Your shoe?" Dave repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Anderson shrugged. Sure enough, he was wearing one polished loafer and one argyle-print sock. "Goddammit, Anderson," Alex sighed. She got up from the couch reluctantly. "I'll be right back."

"I didn't mean to!" Anderson protested, hopping behind her.

"What were you even doing in the six hundreds?"

"Reading about patents."

She rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. "Holy shit, Anderson," she said. "How did you get your shoe in there?"

"I don't know. But least it's working."

She fixed the shelf- there was a trick to it, a kind of pop and wiggle to put it back into place- and handed the dictionaries back to Anderson one by one. "There," she said, tossing his shoe at him as she righted the volumes in the six-thirties. "Put the dictionaries back."

"But I-"

"You got them out, you put them back."

Anderson huffed, but obeyed. There were a couple of books tucked in the back of the shelf that didn't belong, so she stacked them up and walked up and down the aisles to put them back into place. One of the books was in bad shape, pages fluttering and threatening to fall, so she brought it back to her broad circulation desk. Maybe it could be fixed, or replaced, more maybe it could just be removed from the library.

"Hey...Alex?"

She paused and looked over the edge of the desk. "Hey, Spencer," she said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, I...um…"

He clutched a packet of paper folded into thirds in his hands, chewing on his lower lip as if he was debating what he wanted to say. "Come here," she said, beckoning him behind the desk. He obeyed. "What's going on?"

"Do you have an envelope?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she said. She rummaged through the neatly organized drawers. "And a stamp too."

She handed him the envelope and he took it from her eagerly, stuffing his letter inside. She couldn't make out any of the words, but she could see his untidy handwriting covering the pages in scratchy ballpoint pen. He picked up a black felt-tip and scribbled the address across the front.

Silently she held out the stamp and he placed it carefully on the front She caught a faint glimpse of the address he'd written, but she only caught the name- Bennett, or Bennigan, or Bennington. Something like that.

"Do you know where the mailbox is?" she asked.

He nodded. "In the student union," he said.

"Mm-hm," she said. She hesitated. "Spencer, is everything okay?"

"Huh?" he said, startled. "Yeah, everything's...everything's fine."

"Hotch and Morgan said yesterday that you're having trouble sleeping," she said. "Are you homesick? I know that can hit pretty hard."

He bit his lip, staring blankly down at the floor. "Yeah," he said softly. "I guess. Something like that."

"And that's all that's bothering you?" she asked gently. He hesitated, then nodded.

It was a lie. It was definitely a lie. She just didn't know how to begin to call him out on it.

"Listen, Spencer…" she said. She knelt down so she was closer to his eye level. "I know none of us have known you for very long, but...I know it's got to be a little unnerving to be out here all on your own. You can talk us, okay? Any of us."

He nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly.

He was saying all the right things, but he still seemed a little sad, a little lost, as if he was just going through the motions for the sake of politeness. "Do you want a hug?" she asked impulsively.

He didn't react, still staring at the floor. "You can say no," she said softly.

But he leaned towards her and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling his cheek drop against her shoulder. He was so small, hidden in her hug and pressed tight against her. There was something wrong, she knew it. And she had a terrible suspicion that this was the first hug he'd experienced in a long time.

But she didn't want to spook him, so she squeezed him a little tighter, her hand pressing between his narrow shoulderblades. The letter in his hand crumpled around the corners as he hugged her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who went back to work this week and is completely exhausted???
> 
> but I got this out before Thursday was over, so I call that a win!!
> 
> thank you SO much for reading and reviewing and kudos-ing. you have no idea how much I appreciate y'all's feedback and how much it means to me!!!
> 
> next chapter is going to be pretty adorable!!!


	8. don't carry it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> homesickness can be cured with a movie night

_And you must bear your neighbor's burden within reason_   
_And your labors will be borne when all is done, and nobody, nobody knows_   
_Let the yoke fall from our shoulders_   
_Don't carry it all, don't carry it all_   
_We are all our hands in holders_   
_Beneath this bold and brilliant sun_

-"Don't Carry It All" by the Decemberists

* * *

Alex jumped as a wadded-up piece of paper bounced off the back of her head. "What the fuck, Emily, what was that for?" she said, twisting around in her chair to glare at her roommate.

Emily was sprawled out on the floor, her homework in piles around her but every textbook left closed. "I've been trying to get your attention for the past twenty minutes," she complained. Alex tossed the crumpled paper back at her. "Thank god you're an academic type, you'd never make it in athletics." Alex picked up an eraser and chucked it, bonking Emily in the nose. "Hey!"

"What's so important that you needed to get my attention?" Alex asked. "Is there someone on fire? Are you bleeding?"

"No, I'm just bored," Emily said. "Can we please get out of here?"

Alex frowned. "And go where?" she said, gesturing towards the rain tapping on the window. "You really want to go outside in this?"

"Honestly, I would go anywhere," Emily said.

"You can go," Alex shrugged, turning back to her homework.

Emily scrambled up from the floor. "Please?" she said. "Coffee. Let's get coffee. I'll pay. Please, I just need to get out of here."

Alex paused. "Seriously?" she said.

"Absolutely serious," Emily said. "I'm so tired of sitting around in here."

"Have you even started your homework?"

Emily glanced down at the piles on the floor. "Yeah, sure," she said. "I've...opened a book." Alex raised an eyebrow. "Don't start with me, Miller."

"I'm not starting anything," she said, raising her hands in surrender.

Emily rolled her eyes. "We'll pretend you weren't about to lecture me about the importance of the junior year GPA for college applications," she said.

"Well, since you brought it up-" Alex started to say. Emily crumpled up another piece of paper. "All right, all right. Never mind." She looked down at her Russian textbook, and then sighed heavily. "Fine. Let's go get coffee."

"Thank you!" Emily said as Alex closed her book. "Let's go, let's go, let's go. I'm going stir crazy."

Alex switched off her desk lamp and dug around in her side of the closet for her trusty rainboots. Today was the kind of day for practicality over any kind of fashion sense; leggings and one of her older brother's oversized tee shirts were a better choice than a cute dress.

Emily, on the other hand, had gone back to full punk, and was busy touching up her eyeliner in the mirror on the back of the door. "We can't get dresscoded on weekends, can we?" she asked.

"Not as far I know, but if it happens to anyone it'll be you," Alex said. She grabbed her raincoat off its hook, and after a moment picked up a book from her desk. "Come on, let's get this over with." She locked the door behind them and dropped the key in her pocket.

Their RA was in the common room, lounging on the couch with her laptop. "What's up, nerds?" she said, biting back a yawn.

"Hey, Elle," Alex said. "We're going to get coffee."

Elle sat up, looked at the window, and looked back at them. "Seriously?" she said. "What's wrong with you? It's disgusting outside."

"I don't know, it's Prentiss's idea," Alex sighed.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Elle said, turning back to her laptop.

Alex made her way down the stairs, Emily clomping behind her, but she stopped at the doors to pull her hood over her head and tuck her book inside the safety of her coat before they went outside. It had been raining all day, the sky gray and gloomy and the temperature dropping dramatically from blistering humid heat to just a warm thick mugginess, and the puddles forming in the pathways threatened to blur together and flood.

They made the walk to the student union, bursting through the glass double doors into the bright cheery warmth. "Okay, okay, you might have been right," Emily said, closing her umbrella. "Wow, the rain is really gross."

"Is this the part where I'm allowed to say 'I told you so'?" Alex said as she pushed her hood back. She glanced around. "But I mean...I guess it was a decent idea. It is nice to get out of the dorm. And I can use some caffeine."

"Get whatever you want," Emily said. She pushed her damp hair back from her face as they got in line at the register. "What do you usually do on weekends? Stay inside and do homework?"

"Yeah, pretty much," she said. "That, and I kept getting stuck with weekend shifts at the library, so…"

"You need to live a little," Emily said. "Get out more. There's more to life than homework and books."

"Where would I be going?" Alex asked dryly. "This isn't Rome, Emily."

"Oh, trust me, I know," she said. She poked her lightly. "It's your turn. Order."

* * *

"Do you need any help?" Penelope asked.

Spencer raised himself up on his tiptoes and dropped his letter through the mail slot. "I've got it," he said, dropping back on his heels. The rubber sides of his shoes popped, pulling away from the faded canvas.

"Who are you writing to?" she asked.

He closed the little door. "Family," he said shortly. "What about you? Do you write letters to your family?"

"Not really," Penelope said. "I mean, yes, sometimes, but usually I just call. I'm supposed to call my grandparents at least three times a week. I would text, or at least email, but my grandparents aren't exactly tech-savvy, so it has to be a phone call."

A lump unexpectedly rose in her throat. She hadn't thought much about home in the past week, she'd been too busy, but now she suddenly missed the little yellow townhouse, her grandfather's little rose garden and her grandmother's pancakes on Sunday mornings.

Spencer tilted his head. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said.

"Can we get coffee before we go back?" Spencer asked eagerly.

"Yeah, sure," she said, sliding her hands in her pockets. "Maybe it'll stop raining by the time we walk back."

The coffee shop was almost empty; most likely other students were hiding in the safety of their dorms instead of braving the rain. But she immediately recognized the two girls sitting at a corner table. "Hi!" Penelope called. She grabbed Spencer by the wrist and dragged him behind her.

"Hey, you two," Alex said. "What're you doing out here?"

"I had to mail my letter," Spencer said.

Emily tucked her dark hair behind her ear. "Where's your dad and the rest of the ducklings?" she asked.

Spencer frowned. "Our dad?"

"Hotch didn't want to go out in the rain," Penelope said. "And JJ and Derek are at their sports practices."

"Well, go get some coffee and come sit with us," Emily said, pulling out the empty chair next to her. "Keep us company. I'm trying to get Miller to be more fun, she just wants to stay home and read books."

"Reading is fun," Spencer objected.

Alex smiled. "See, this is why you're my favorite," she said. Spencer brightened.

Emily slid out of her chair, her empty mug dangling from her hooked fingers. "I think I need more caffeine," she said. "Come on, you two. Coffee time. Alex, you need anything?"

"I'm good."

Penelope gazed up at the black chalkboard menus, scanning the neat white lettering. Usually her grandmother didn't let her drink coffee. She could hear her now- _you'll stunt your growth, Penny, have a hot chocolate or tea instead-_ but her grandfather always let her have sips of his coffee, the way he liked it, strong enough to thin paint and softened with only a little bit of sugar.

Her vision blurred.

"Okay, Penelope, your turn, what do you want?" Emily asked. "You strike me as a latte girl. Do you…" Her voice trailed off. "Are you okay?"

She wiped at her eyes. "I'm fine," she said, her voice wobbling.

"I don't think you're fine," Emily said. "Are you...uh, don't cry. It's okay."

"I'm not crying," she sniffled.

Emily took her by the shoulders and turned her around. "Go sit with Alex, I think she'll be better at this than me," she said. "What do you want? I'll get it for you."

"I don't know!" she wailed.

"Okay, okay, go, I'll take care of it," Emily said, giving her a push back towards Alex.

She trudged back to the table. Alex rested her chin in her hand as she read, her book propped open on the table, but she glanced up as Penelope sat down. "That was fast," she said. She paused. "Hey, are you okay?"

"My grandmother doesn't let me drink coffee!" Penelope burst out.

Alex blinked, startled, and closed her book. "Okay," she said slowly. "Can you elaborate a little bit?"

Penelope sighed. "So my grandmother doesn't let me drink coffee because she thinks it'll stunt my growth, but my grandfather lets me drink his coffee when he's not looking, and like...it's not _good_ , but it's a really nice gesture and it always makes me think of him," she said.

Alex scrunched up her face, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, and then relaxed. "I see," she said. "I think you're homesick."

"Is that what this is?" Penelope said. "I hate it. It sucks."

Alex laughed. "Yeah, it does," she said. "Trust me, I still remember my first year here. I was so miserable. I called my mom every day my first two weeks, absolutely bawling, and then begging her not tell my dad because he'd just tell me to come home." She reached over and patted Penelope's hand. "You'll feel better soon once you start adjusting, I promise. Staying busy will help."

"I can stay busy," she said. "I signed up for eleven extracurriculars."

"Okay, that might be _too_ busy."

Emily set down a large cup and a cake pop down in front of Penelope. "Hope you like it," she said. "Feel better?"

"Maybe not better, but I've been diagnosed with homesickness."

"Oh, shit, that sucks," Emily said.

"Don't you get homesick?" Alex asked.

Emily rolled her eyes. "I've moved six times back and forth across Europe, if I got homesick for anything I wouldn't survive," she said.

Alex tapped her phone screen and looked at the time. "When are Derek and JJ done with their practices?" she asked.

"Four, I think," Spencer said, jabbing the end of his straw on the table in an effort to pry off the wrapper.

Alex pulled it off for him and handed it back. "Maybe we can all do something fun," she suggested. "Get your mind off things."

"What can we do?" Emily asked. "It's disgusting outside and we can't go anywhere."

"Let's have a movie night," Alex suggested. "I'll text Dave and James, see if they want to join us too." She picked up her phone and frowned. "Who changed my name in the group chat to 'mom friend Miller'?"

"It was Emily's idea," Penelope said immediately.

"I'm changing your name, then," Alex said. "Penelope, help me change it."

* * *

The door banged open and Hotch bolted upright. "What the fuck?" he gasped.

Derek leaned in the doorway, his football bag dangling off his shoulder. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were sleeping," he said. "You haven't been answering your texts."

Hotch pressed his palms over his eyes. "Because I was _asleep,"_ he said. He fumbled blindly for his phone. "Thirty-seven missed texts?"

"Welcome to the group chat," Derek grinned.

Hotch scrolled through the messages. "You woke me up to tell me I missed texts about a movie night?" he said, yawning. "That's it?"

"Well, the girls want to have it up here in our common room," Derek said. "Alex and Emily said that their RA wouldn't care about having boys on their floor after designated hours, but their head teacher would."

"Yeah, Strauss would freak out," Hotch said. "And Gideon won't care." He yawned again. "Yeah, yeah, tell 'em it's fine, I guess."

"Oh, good," Derek said. "I already told them they could. They should be here any second now." He slapped the doorframe lightly. "I'm gonna go shower. Practice kicked my ass today."

Hotch waved him off dismissively. He still wasn't quite awake, but according to his phone he'd been napping for at least an hour. Might as well get up.

He heard the footsteps on the stairs and winced. Yeah, going back to sleep was definitely out of the question. "Hotch!" Emily bellowed. "Did you get our texts?"

"I got them, I got them," he called back, wandering out of his room towards the top of the stairs. "Movie night. I got it. Can you guys not drip water everywhere?"

"Sorry," Alex said, peeling her raincoat off gingerly. "It's still really gross outside."

She draped her coat over the banister; Emily shook out her umbrella in gleeful abandon and propped it up against the wall. "Penelope is grabbing stuff from her room, and JJ just got back from soccer," she said. "They'll be up in a little bit."

"Yeah, Derek just got back from football, he's taking a shower," Hotch said, frowning. "Spencer? You okay?"

Spencer squinted up at him. "Uh-huh, why?"

"You're drenched," Hotch said. "Don't you have an umbrella or a coat or something?"

Spencer looked down at himself. He wore a red pullover hoodie, the frayed cuffs hanging over his hands, and it was soaking wet, the hem hanging past his hips. "It doesn't really rain much in Las Vegas," he said, pushing the hood back. His long hair was damp too, curling at the ends.

"That's a fair point," Alex said. "Go get changed and hang that up to dry."

Spencer bit his lip. Hotch wondered if he had anything to change into. "Here," he said, unzipping his dark blue hoodie. "You can wear this instead."

"Thanks," Spencer said, surprised. "I'll be right back."

He darted down the hall to his room, water dripping in his wake. "That kid is falling apart," Emily remarked.

"You don't even know the half of it," Hotch said.

"Is he still not sleeping?" Alex asked.

"Nope," Hotch said. "And he-" He paused; he could hear JJ and Penelope on the stairs. "I'll tell you later."

Penelope burst into the common room, her arms laden down with brightly colored pillows and blankets. "I have more if we need them!" she said.

"More?" Hotch repeated.

"She does, trust me," JJ said, dumping her armful on the floor. Her long blonde hair was wet from her shower and smelled strongly of floral conditioner. "You should see our room."

"You can't have a movie night sleepover if you're not cozy," Penelope said.

"Wait, wait, wait, this isn't a sleepover," Hotch said, raising his hands. "Gideon might not care, but Strauss certainly will."

"Don't worry, Prentiss and I will leave on time," Alex said. "We won't get anybody in trouble."

Five different phones buzzed simultaneously; Penelope checked hers first. "Dave and James are on the way over," she said. "Do we need to wait for them to start?"

"Oh, we can go ahead and put in the first movie," Alex said.

"Wait a minute, the first one?" Hotch said. "How many movies are we watching?"

Alex shrugged. "We can probably go through two before we have to call it a night," she said.

Emily plopped down on an armchair. "Don't freak out, Dad, it's not school night," she said.

"I'm not freaking out," he frowned.

Spencer ran back into the room, Derek at his heels. "Hey, baby girl, I got your text, I-" He stopped. "You told me to bring more pillows and blankets, but I think you've got enough."

"Oh, no, you can never have too many," she said, busily setting up her nest in the middle of the floor.

Derek rolled his eyes and handed Spencer a pillow and a soft ivory blanket with a satin edging. "Here, pretty boy, you take these," he said.

"What am I supposed to do with them?"

"Get comfy," Derek said. Spencer set the pillow and blanket down in the corner of the couch.

Hotch's frown deepened. "Spencer, what's wrong with your shoes?" he asked.

Spencer paused and looked down at his feet. His left shoe was torn in half, the canvas upper completely torn away from the rubber sole. "Oh," he said. "I hadn't realized." He sighed. "I'll just tape them back together."

"What do you mean, tape them back together?" Emily asked.

He unlaced his shoes and took them off carefully; today his left sock was pink striped and his right was solid orange. "Like my last ones," he said. "They'll last a little longer that way. Maybe I can find some gaff tape instead of duct tape. Gaff tape has a cotton backing instead of vinyl. Did you know it was invented by a cinematographer?"

"No, I didn't know that," Hotch said.

He caught Alex's look of concern and he shrugged at her. But before anyone could press Spencer further, Penelope bounced up from her nest on the floor. "There!" she said. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect. So what movie are we going to watch?"

"I think you get first pick," Alex said.

"I pick Frozen," Penelope said immediately, and Derek groaned.

"Seriously?" he said. "You're going to make us watch Frozen?"

"It's a good movie!" she defended. "And Alex said I got to pick first!"

"Ooh, don't drag me into this," Alex said, sitting down on the couch.

Derek huffed impatiently. "All right, fine," he said. "Let's watch a princess movie."

Hotch took the other armchair, giving into another yawn. Derek, JJ, and Penelope piled into the pillow and blanket fort on the floor; Spencer climbed up on the couch next to Alex. The dark blue hood swallowed him up like a cocoon, but at least he looked a little better now that he wasn't wearing his soaking wet sweatshirt.

He eyed Spencer's sneakers out of the corner of his eye as the movie started playing on the common room TV. There was no way possible that those shoes could be fixed. The left one was far past saving, and the right shoe was almost unwearable too.

"So this movie was loosely based on Hans Christian Anderson's The Snow Queen, but Walt Disney tried adapting the story into a film as early as 1940," Spencer said. "The episodic nature of the-"

Penelope turned around, her finger to her lips. "Sh! It's starting!" she said.

"Have you even seen Frozen, Spence?" JJ asked.

He frowned. "No," he said. "But I-"

Penelope flapped her hand at him. "It's starting!" he repeated. Spencer scowled and leaned back against the couch, pulling at the soft blanket he'd borrowed from Derek.

Hotch didn't bother paying attention. He'd seen the movie a million times; when he left campus to stay with his aunt and uncle for the two weeks between the end of the St. Thaddeus summer camp sessions and the beginning of the new school year, it was all that Sean would watch. Well, that and the sequel.

"Okay, wait, I don't understand," Emily said. "Did the rocks just kidnap that child and his baby reindeer?"

"Not exactly, they kind of...well, now that you mention it. They might have kidnapped Kristoff."

Hotch fiddled with his phone while the movie played, only half paying attention. Across from him Alex opened her book, chewing idly on her thumbnail and curling her legs up underneath her. Occasionally his phone buzzed with updates in the group chat from Dave and James.

Suddenly Penelope whipped around to stare at him. He nearly dropped his phone. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he said.

"Are you singing along?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Absolutely not." His phone vibrated. "Hey, James and Dave are here. Who's going to run downstairs and let them in."

"Nose goes!" Derek said, and Penelope and JJ followed suit quickly. "All right, Spencer, that's you."

"What if I don't want to?" he said.

"Too bad, you lost," Derek said, grinning at him.

"Hotch didn't play."

"I don't count," Hotch said. "Go on." Spencer sighed and climbed down from the couch. As soon as the sound of his footsteps faded away he got up. "Hey, Alex? Can I borrow you for a second?"

"Hm?" she said absently. "Yeah, sure."

She set her book aside. "Derek, can you come with us?" Hotch asked.

Derek got up from the floor and Hotch led them down the hallway. "What's going on?" Alex asked.

Hotch opened the door to Derek and Spencer's shared dorm room. "We need to talk," he said.

"About what?"

Derek flipped on the lights. "So, just by looking in here...which side is mine and which side is Spencer's?" he asked.

Alex looked around, and Hotch saw recognition dawn in her dark eyes. "Oh my god," she said. There was such a sharp contrast- Derek's belongings tossed around on his side, the posters and photos, his cozy bed heaped with pillows and blankets; Spencer's single blanket and pillow, his school shoes set neatly on the floor, his half a dozen well-loved books arranged on the shelf.

"Yeah," Hotch said.

Alex stared, her hand falling absently against her throat. "That's it?" she said.

"That's it," Derek said. "Well, not even. The pillow is Hotch's and the sheets are mine. He didn't even have those."

"Everything he has, he carried in his backpack," Hotch said. "Don't even bother looking in the drawers. There's nothing there but a couple of pairs of mismatched socks."

"You're fucking kidding me," Alex said. She walked around in a slow circle, bewildered. "He doesn't...there's no clothes, no knickknacks." She looked at Hotch. "There's no pictures of his family. Has he said anything about his family?"

"He's mentioned his mother," Hotch said. "He said that she was the one who lied about his age on his application, but the way he was talking made it sound like he was the one who submitted his application himself."

"Hold on, hold on," Derek interrupted. "He lied about his age?"

Hotch shifted his weight. "I promised him I wouldn't say anything," he said. "But I...he's not ten. He's nine."

"Nine?" Alex repeated. "You are fucking shitting me, Hotchner. He's only nine years old?"

"He'll be ten in October," Hotch confessed.

"Holy shit," Derek said.

Alex pressed her fingertips to her temples. "So you're telling me that Spencer is nine years old and might have lied in order to move across the country for school?" she said.

"That's, uh...that's what it looks like," Hotch said. He'd promised Spencer he wouldn't say anything, but it was such a relief to tell someone else instead of worrying on his own.

"Do you think he ran away?" Alex asked. "Do you think his parents know where is? Does he even have parents?"

"I don't know," Hotch admitted.

She exhaled slowly. "He wrote a letter the other day," she said. "I don't remember the address, and he didn't say who it was for. Maybe he was writing to his family."

"Maybe," Hotch said, but he didn't sound convincing even to himself. "We'll just have to watch out for him. Keep a close eye."

Alex nodded. "God knows nobody else has," she said.

"Hey, guys! Dave and James are here and they brought pizza."

Hotch ushered them out of the room; Derek flipped off the lights. "Not a word," he told them. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that he was lying."

"If he's lying about that, what else is he lying about?" Derek asked. He shifted his weight. "What's he been having nightmares about?"

Hotch froze. He hadn't even thought about that.

"Come on, you guys!" JJ called again.

"We'll talk about this later," he said quietly.

He tried to push his worry away as they rejoined the others in the common room. "Hey, there you are," James said, grinning at them. "We brought food!"

"How many pieces can we have each?" Derek asked eagerly. "Because I-"

"Had football, yeah, I can guess," Dave teased.

"Let Spencer go first," Alex said.

"All right, all right, we'll go youngest to oldest," Dave said. "C'mere, _passerotto,_ what do you want?"

Spencer wrinkled his nose. "Passerotto?" he repeated.

"It means _little sparrow,_ " Emily explained, ruffling his hair. "It's a term of endearment for little kids. Go on, hurry up, we can't eat until you pick."

"What do we owe you for the pizza?" Hotch asked.

Dave waved his hand. "Don't worry about it," he said. "It's nothing. What are we watching?" He squinted at the image paused on the TV. "Which princess is that?"

"Wait, have you never seen Frozen?" Penelope asked. "Should we start the movie over?"

"No, no, I can catch up," Dave said. "It's fine."

Hotch went back to his armchair with a paper plate in his hands as JJ started the movie back up. Alex took her seat on the couch again, but she didn't open her book. Spencer sat beside her, chatting a quiet mile a minute, his place nearly untouched on his lap. Every so often she gently redirected his attention back towards eating.

When the first movie finished, they voted on a followup (Penelope lobbied for the sequel, but she was outvoted.) Derek and JJ made a run to the vending machine for candy and sodas, lugging them back with their arms full.

They were almost done with the second movie when Tara Lewis poked her head in. "Hey, Hotchner, do you have my girls?" she said. "I'm missing Jennifer and Penelope."

"We're here!" Penelope said. "We'll be down soon, I promise."

Tara raised an eyebrow. "It's movie night," Hotch shrugged. "And you know Gideon won't care."

"That's true," Tara said. "Ladies, come right down when you're done, okay?"

"We will," JJ promised.

Hotch leaned back in his armchair, his chin resting in his hand. He had to admit, it was kind of nice. This sort of thing never happened in his first two years at St. Thaddeus. He hadn't exactly made friends- plenty of acquaintances, and he and Derek got along really well, but he never found himself in a specific group.

"Who gets to pick the movie next week?" James asked, tossing a handful of skittles in his mouth.

"We're doing this again?" Hotch said.

"Yeah, why not?" Derek said. "Oh, man, have you guys seen Hereditary?"

"We're not watching scary movies!" Penelope protested.

"Why not?"

"They're scary!"

"That's the whole point," JJ said.

"We should start with Midsommar," Emily said. "Now that's a good movie."

"It's a good movie, but I don't know if I ever want to see it again," Alex said. "I think I'm good with just the one time."

"The reviews were really good," Spencer said sleepily. He was curled up beside Alex, his cheek pressed against her arm, and he hugged the borrowed ivory blanket to his chest. "A24 has really been doing well creating modern horror films."

"Have you seen any of them?" Alex asked.

"No, but I've read the synopses."

"Definitely not the same," Derek said. "But I think we should start with Hereditary."

"No! I'll have nightmares!"

"Fine, we'll balance it out with something less scary."

"I get to pick it!"

"You just picked this one."

"Fine, we'll make a schedule and rotate."

Hotch grinned. It was nice. It really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is SUCH a slow burn. hopefully you're having a good time!!
> 
> and Saturday movie nights become a regular thing for the boarding school babes. And yes, they make a rotating schedule to decide who gets to pick the next movie.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this one!! The next chapter is more plot-ish than cute-ish. But I really want to build things up before I start throwing the major angst around!!
> 
> My tumblr is themetaphorgirl if you'd like to chat and be pals!!


	9. you don't know me (at all)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer struggles, but he's not the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for some fairly intense bullying

_I wanna ask you_

_Do you ever sit and wonder,_   
_It's so strange_   
_That we could be together for_   
_So long, and never know, never care_   
_What goes on in the other one's head?_

_Things I've felt but I've never said_   
_You said things that I never said_   
_So I'll say something that I should have said long ago:_

_You don't know me at all_   
_(You don't know me)_   
_You don't know me at all (at all)_

\--"You Don't Know Me (At All)" by Ben Folds and Regina Spektor

* * *

_**monday** _

Derek walked out of his last class with his half-zipped backpack dangling recklessly off his shoulder. Whatever he'd learned in class was already forgotten; he had practice in thirty minutes and he was more than ready. His first varsity game was on Friday and it was all he could think about.

He rounded the corner and nearly ran over two overeager freshmen. "Hey, Morgan!" they chorused.

"Hey," he said, slightly startled.

"Are you ready for the game on Friday?" the wide-shouldered blond asked.

"Sure hope so," he said. He shifted his backpack so he could zip it shut the rest of the way. "You two are junior varsity, right? You're Joseph Neal, and…"

"Arik Dallas," the dark-haired one said. "Yeah, and you're a _legend_ on the JV team, dude. Last year you were second string JV and now you're a starter on varsity?"

Derek grinned. The flattery made his heart flap against his ribs. "Well, don't speak too soon, Coach Buford hasn't decided if he wants me to start yet," he said. "And besides, the growth spurt I had last summer sure helped."

A big hand clapped on his shoulder. "Don't sell yourself so short, Morgan. You put in a lot of hard work this summer and it shows."

He turned around to see two of his older varsity teammates standing behind him- Jordan Maclain, a movie star handsome senior, and Tanner Thornton, a heavily freckled junior with a gap between his front teeth. Suddenly he felt as starstruck as Dallas and Neal. "Oh, hey," he said, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Seriously, boys, take a page from Morgan's book," Maclain said. "He did everything right. That growth spurt helped, but nothing replaces dedication."

"Thanks," he stammered out.

Suddenly a blonde comet hurtled into him, clattering in her oxford heels. "Chocolate thunder!" Penelope said, throwing her arms around his waist. "I know you have practice tonight, but I just found out from a very reliable source- which is my own incredible hacking ability, thank you very much- that they're going to have corn nuggets in the dining hall tonight. I'll save you some in case you're running late!"

"Thanks, baby girl, you're an angel," he laughed.

"See you later! Have a good time at practice!" she said. "Bye, Derek's football friends!"

She skittered to rejoin JJ and Spencer at the end of the hallway; JJ offered a small wave, but Spencer stayed half hidden behind her. "Was that your girlfriend?" Maclain teased.

Derek's cheeks heated up. "No, no, just a friend," he said. "She's like that with everybody."

Neal dug around for a second in his backpack and feigned surprise. "Oh, I...forgot something," he said. He grinned at Dallas. "Let's go look for it."

"Yeah," Dallas said. "See you later."

The two of them scurried off after JJ and Penelope. Maclain checked his phone. "We'd better be going too," he said. "Practice is in twenty minutes, and you know how Coach gets."

He headed off down the hall and Derek started to follow him, but Thornton caught him by the arm. "Hey," he said sharply. "You've gotta be careful."

Derek frowned. "Why?"

Thornton glanced around, then tugged him aside. "You and me...we've got it harder around here," he said. He pointed to the emblem on his blazer, the gold embroidered St. Thaddeus emblem and _Lincoln_ stitched in neat red script. "That Lincoln House girl...you've got to watch your reputation."

"What the hell does that mean?" Derek said, perplexed. "They're my friends."

"If you want to get anywhere, you've got to get as far as Lincoln House as possible," Thornton said. "You wanna know how I got where I am? Forgetting that that's where I belong. If I forget, then everybody else forgets."

"Why does it matter?" Derek said.

Thornton laughed. "Aw, kid," he said. "Your talent got you in the door, but you've got to stay aware of your surroundings if you want to stay." He tossed his arm over Derek's shoulder. "Stick with me. I got you."

* * *

One of Alex's hidden talents was walking while reading, but in retrospect, maybe she shouldn't try to do it with a 900 page hardback. It was a little too hard to balance with one hand. But she couldn't put it down, so she juggled it carefully as she walked.

She took the shortcut through the language arts hallway; the crowds of kids leaving their sixth period classes had dissipated and this was the fastest way to get to the library. Maybe there wouldn't be too much work to be done and she could finish her book during her shift.

She rounded the corner, the book slipping from her hand, and as she caught it she looked up to see a familiar little figure pressed up against the wall. Two older boys, taller and broader, dug through the contents of his ripped backpack. "Hey!" she shouted, and their heads jerked up like scolded dogs. They dropped the backpack and scattered like roaches, running the opposite way down the hall. "Hey, come back here!"

For a split second she thought about running after them, but they weren't the priority. She knelt down beside Spencer, dropping the book on the floor and cupping his little face in her hands. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"They wanted my phone," he said. "Joke's on them, I don't have one." He offered her a little half smile, one corner of his mouth turning up more than the other and a dimple popping in his cheek. "It's okay. They didn't hurt me or anything."

Alex relaxed. "Good," she said. "It looks like they tore up your backpack pretty badly, though."

"Oh, no, it already looked like that," Spencer said. He scrambled to his feet and held out his hand to help her up. "Are you opening the library?"

"Uh-huh," she said. "Do you want to come with me?"

He nodded eagerly as he picked up her book and handed it to her. "I've got some homework I could get done," he said as they started walking down the hall. "It's not due till Friday, but I might as well get it done. Are you reading David Copperfield? That's one of my favorites."

"Mine too," she said. "Although I'm partial to Bleak House."

"That's one of the first books to mention spontaneous human combustion!" Spencer said. "Actually, though, most documented cases of potential spontaneous human combustion usually involve some kind of lighting source."

He continued to chatter brightly as they walked down the hall, but he slipped his small hand into hers. His fingers were ice cold and shaking. She squeezed gently, holding his hand tight, and let him talk, adding little interested noises to make sure he knew she was listening.

David was waiting at the locked library door, fiddling with his phone. "There you are, Miller," he said, exasperated. "You're late. And you haven't answered any of my texts."

"Chill, Rossi," Alex said, letting go of Spencer's hand to unlock the door. "I'm only...three minutes behind. Where's Blake?"

"He's got an interview for the hospital internship," Dave said. She opened the door and turned on the lights. "Finally, thank you." He zipped past her, striding over to his favorite seat at his favorite table, and dumped his bag on the chair before heading to the stacks.

"Where's he going in such a hurry?" Spencer asked.

"Probably true crime," Alex said. "And...ah, yes. There he goes. Right to the three hundreds." She walked behind the circulation desk, dropping her messenger bag on the floor, and dug around in her secret snack drawer. "Chocolate or not chocolate?"

He frowned. "What's not chocolate?" he asked. She held out a bag of Hershey kisses and a package of Twizzlers. "Oh! Non chocolate, please."

She handed them over, then hesitated. "Wait a second," she said, rummaging around in the drawers. "I know...that somewhere...it should still be good...aha!" She held out a tube of superglue. "Do you think this can help keep your sneakers together?"

"Maybe," he said, taking the tube and inspecting the label carefully.

"At least until you can get new ones," she said. "This can tide you over."

The corner of his mouth tugged down. "Yeah," he said, but he didn't sound very convinced. "I'm gonna go work on my homework. Thanks for the glue. And the candy."

"Any time," she said.

He wandered off towards the windowseat that was quickly becoming his favorite spot, his backpack awkwardly bundled up under his arm. Alex frowned. After a moment, she grabbed a small bag of pistachios. She would definitely text Hotch later, keep him up with this bullying incident, but right now this was more important.

Dave had set up camp- books stacked around him like a fortress, a yellow legal pad and a black felt tip pen at his elbow, his Macbook closed and waiting for him. A sophomore girl started to put her backpack down in the chair next to him. "This table is occupied," he said absently. "Sit somewhere else."

She made a face and moved to another table. Alex sat down in the seat across from him. "I said, occupied," he said. She nudged the pistachios towards him; he glanced up and accepted her offering. "Thanks."

She glanced around to see if anyone was listening, now that students were beginning to trickle in, and leaned forward, her arms folded on the table and her chin resting on her hands. "Psst," she said. "Uncle Moneybags."

"No," he said, opening his Macbook.

She flipped it closed. "I have a proposition for you," she said.

He scowled. "This better be good."

"We need to get the little one some new shoes," she whispered. "And a new backpack."

Dave's scowl deepened. "The little one?" he repeated. "Who are you…" His eyebrows lifted. "Oh, yeah. That little one. Yeah, his shoes are in bad shape. You need my credit card?"

Alex hesitated. "It's...a bit more than than that," she said. "He has nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"Hotch and Derek showed me his room," she said. "David, he doesn't have _anything_. His parents...whoever sent him to school didn't give him anything. No bedding other than a blanket, no coat, almost no clothes."

"Are you serious?" he said.

She nodded. "Hotch said that everything he brought with him was in that ripped up backpack, and it was mostly books," she said.

Dave drummed his fingers on the lid of his laptop. "I'll see what I can do," he said. "Talk to Emily too. I have a feeling her credit limit might be even higher than mine."

Alex leaned back, relieved. "Thanks," she said. She picked up one of his books. "Truman Capote?"

"Research," he said.

Alex peeked through the stacks. "What case are you writing about now, Stephen King?" she asked. "And do your parents know about this?"

He blushed red and grabbed it back. "Shut up," he said. "And you know they don't. And if they ask you if I chose creative writing or logic for my elective-"

"Tell them you chose logic, I got it, I got it," she said. "Don't worry, Rossi, your secret is safe with me."

* * *

**tuesday**

His fingertips burned a little from the superglue and the canvas was stained with dark splotches, and there was a chance he might have glued his sock to his shoe, but at least it was holding together. He could probably get through gym class at least. Penelope and Hotch had theatre club later, maybe he could get one of them to snag him some gaff tape from backstage.

Spencer capped the tube and dropped it in his pocket before unlatching the bathroom stall door. It was quiet in the locker room, which meant the other ninth graders had left, which meant it was probably safe to emerge.

The rest of the ninth graders swarmed the bleachers, a sea of gray and navy uniformed teenagers, their conversations blurring and bouncing and echoing off the walls and polished floor. Spencer climbed unsteadily to the third row of the silver bleachers, sliding in beside Penelope. She'd swapped her light up sneakers for a more sensible pair, but still neon pink.

"Are you-" she started to say, but the gym teacher was already calling for their attention and the rush of conversation began to die down.

Spencer folded himself forward, arms crossed and resting on his knees, his heart rapidly sinking in his chest. A vast assortment of equipment and gymnastics mats were set up across the gym, preparing for a circuit of various fitness tests. This was _not_ going to go well.

He knew his limitations. He wasn't a good runner, he wasn't strong and sturdy, he didn't have any muscles to speak of. Already he was four, five, six years younger than everyone else in the room, and he knew that even for ten- well, nine, if he wasn't lying to himself like he lied to everybody else- he was small for his age.

The last time he'd gone to a doctor he was eight. His father had gotten fed up about getting voicemails about the missed appointments his mother scheduled but never remembered. He'd taken a whole morning off from work, reminding him of it at every turn. They hadn't seemed too alarmed at his height, they promised he'd hit his growth spurts when he was old enough, but they'd warned his father that he was in the lower end of the percentile for his weight, that he needed him to keep an eye out for him. His father had taken the papers and pamphlets they'd given him and set them on the kitchen counter, and in short order they were buried with dirty dishes and past due bills, never to be touched again.

"Guys, this is gonna _murder_ me," Penelope groaned as the coach blew the whistle for them to line up. "I wasn't built for this. I have a delicate constitution."

"This class is pass/fail based on participation," JJ reminded her. "Just do the bare minimum and get over it."

Spencer got up from the uncomfortable metal bleachers. "If this wasn't a required class I'd-"

He stumbled forward, falling down the steps with a loud metallic _thump_. For a second he just laid there on the cold slick floor, his breath catching in his chest with panic. At first he thought he'd just tripped, but-

"Very smooth, Spencer Weed," Neal snickered as he stepped over him.

"Nice shoes, by the way," Dallas added. "Dig them out of the garbage yourself?"

He kicked him lightly in the ribs on his way out. Spencer clenched his fists. He'd struck his chin on the way down and the pain spiked into his jaws, making his teeth ache, and his eyes were burning. But he wasn't going to cry. Not now. Not again. He'd promised.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Penelope asked. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he said. "I tripped."

JJ sat down beside him and silently began to pluck at his shoelaces. They were knotted together, the worn-through strings connecting his shoes together. "They're bastards," she said. "What did you ever do to them?"

"Most bullies pick on other kids because of their own personal insecurities," Spencer said, but he didn't sound convincing even to himself.

"You should get back at them," Penelope suggested. "Give them a taste of their own medicine. Maybe it'll make them stop."

"That's a great idea, Penelope, but it's gym class. I don't think there's much I'd be capable of," he said dryly.

JJ tied his shoes into tightly double-knotted bows and helped him up. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked. "Your chin looks like it's going to bruise."

He touched his chin lightly; the skin felt hot and tender and she was probably right. "I'll be fine," he said. "We should go before the coach realizes we're behind."

He didn't think class could get much worse. And yet, somehow it did.

Neal and Dallas lined up behind them, watching him, whispering snide comments about him under their breath when the girls were distracted, making loud shrieks and whistles and claps so they could laugh when he jumped. He gritted his teeth and said nothing, but the temptation to take Penelope's advice grew stronger and stronger.

The chin up bar loomed in the distance, the biggest obstacle yet. JJ was able to get to it easily, pulling herself up at least half a dozen times before dropping to the ground, but Penelope gazed up at it as if it was a mile high. "There's no way," she said.

"Yes, you can," JJ said. "Just do one, okay? I'll help you up."

He sensed a presence behind him, leaning over his shoulder. "Did you break your face when you fell, Spencer Weed?" Neal said. "Sure sounded like it did."

He whipped around. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" he demanded. "I didn't do anything to you."

Dallas smiled, sharp and wolfish. "Oh, you didn't need to do anything, Lincoln House," he said.

Spencer turned back around, the back of his neck prickling. He didn't know what to do. There wasn't anything he could do.

The sharp corner of the superglue tube jabbed into his thigh.

Well, maybe there was _one_ thing he could do.

He fiddled with the cap until it unscrewed and fell to the bottom of his pocket. It wouldn't be too hard. And no lasting damage, either. Maybe just a little bit of short term unpleasantness.

Penelope dropped down from the bar. "My arms are going to fall off!" she moaned. "How many was that?"

"One and a half," JJ said. "Come on, Spence, your turn. Do you need a boost?"

"No, I think I got it," he said.

He climbed up on the block and looked up at the bar. Carefully he drew his hand out of his pocket, the tube of glue hidden in his palm, and reached up.

It was a little tough to concentrate on the bar while also keeping the glue from squeezing onto his own fingers, but he managed. It was more important to watch the glue, so he pulled himself up partway, watching it ooze across the bar.

He dropped back down, the tube spent, and he quickly shoved it back in his pocket. "Okay, that was...I think that was one," JJ said. "C'mon, let's go. That was the last one."

He hopped down from the box, grinning. "I did it," he whispered.

"A chin up?"

"No, I-" He glanced back at Neal, seconds away from grabbing the bar. "I got back at them. I think it'll be pretty good?"

Penelope's eyes went wide behind her neon lime glasses. "What did you do?" she whispered.

Neal screamed like a stuck pig. "Ow! Something burned me!" he shrieked.

JJ's jaw dropped. "What did you do?" she asked.

"Nothing that'll cause major damage," he said. "The glue won't completely get him stuck up there."

Neal strugged with the bar, still shrieking, making everyone stare. "What's going on?" the coach said.

Dallas pointed towards them. "Spencer Reid did something to him," he accused.

"Reid!" the coach bellowed. "Get over here!"

His heart dropped. "I didn't...it isn't anything…" He looked up at JJ. "Do you think I'll be in trouble?"

She squeezed his arm. "I don't know, but it'll be okay," she said. "We'll wait right here."

He walked over slowly. Neal had pried himself off the chin up bar and dropped down to the ground, holding out his hands for the gathered group of kids to stare at them. "Reid, what'd you do?" the coach demanded.

He drew the tube out of his pocket and held it out. "It...it was just a prank," he said, keenly aware of the rest of the ninth graders staring at him. "They've...they've been picking on me, they tied my shoes together and-"

"Detention," the coach said flatly. "This afternoon."

"But I-"

He stopped talking. There was no point. The coach was already writing him up, and Neal and Dallas were glaring at him, and he had the horrible, horrible feeling that his attempt at revenge only made things worse.

* * *

"Penelope, this is dumb," Hotch whispered.

"It's only dumb if you make it dumb," she whispered back. She closed her eyes, but she could hear him scooting closer.

"What does this have to do with theatre?" he asked.

"It improves your awareness and your _focus_ so be quiet and let me _focus_ ," she hissed.

Admittedly, to someone unfamiliar with theatre, it was a little weird that everyone was lying on the floor on the darkened stage, listening to Harper Hillman talk them through breathing and centering. She'd done this kind of thing before with the community theater she did summer camps with back home, but most likely for Hotch this was...a little odd.

She exhaled slowly through her nose. It had been a long, stressful day, ever since the coach had written Spencer up. The three of them had agreed to not say anything to anybody else- Spencer was desperate to keep his detention a secret from the bigger kids. But it was killing her. The shoelaces thing was bad enough, but the way Spencer talked, those ninth grade football boys had to have spent the past week tormenting him already. But neither she nor JJ could get Spencer to talk. He wouldn't answer them when they tried to get him to open up, he kept rattling on about unrelated things.

"All right, you guys, that's it," Harper said, clapping her hands. "See you next week, we'll be back at our usual time. Oh, and don't forget, they'll be announcing the selection for the fall play soon, so keep your eyes out."

Penelope sat up. "I heard they want to do Noises Off," she said. "I would kill to play Belinda."

"I don't know what any of that means," Hotch said, pushing himself up. "Ugh, I think I dozed off a little bit."

"That happens to the best of us," Penelope said as she stood up, brushing off her shorts. "Are you going to try out for the fall play?"

He shot her a pained look, his arms resting on his bent knees. "Penelope. Look at me," he said. "Do I look like the kind of guy who would audition for a school play?"

"I don't know, you tell me, you're the one who joined theatre club!" she said.

"The answer is no, Penelope," he said. "Tech at the most. And only if-"

His eyes went wide and he scrambled to his feet. "You're staring at Haley again, aren't you?" she said. "Oh, yep, there she is."

"Shut up," he said, his cheeks going red. "It's not like I have any opportunity to spend time with her."

"Isn't she in your physics class?" she said.

"Yeah, but are you kidding me? She doesn't notice me," he said. "Besides, I'm focused on taking notes."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Of course you are," she said. "And of course she doesn't notice you, she...oh. _Oh_. Hotch, she's walking over to you."

"Ha, ha, very funny," he said. "You don't have to joke, Penelope, she's-"

"Hey, guys," Haley said, and Hotch jumped. "How's it going?"

"Uh, not bad, I guess, I…" he stammered. He cleared his throat. "That, uh, focus thing was...something."

"Harper loves it, but it makes me fall asleep every time," Haley laughed. "Hey, do you know what happened in the ninth grade gym class today? One of the JV football boys had a nasty prank played on them. He had to go the infirmary and get his hands looked at, he missed practice."

Penelope swallowed hard. "I don't know if I would call it a nasty prank…"

"You're in that class, right?" Haley said. "Do you know what happened? I heard that that little kid did it, the one that skipped like..three grades."

"Four," Hotch said. "Spencer is-" He stopped. "Wait a minute. Spencer sent a kid to the infirmary?" He held his hand out at about waist-height. "Spencer who's that tall. That Spencer?"

"He's like...a little taller than that," Penelope mumbled.

"That's what I heard," Haley said. "What happened?"

They were both staring at her now. "They picked on him first," Penelope offered. "They tied his shoes together and he tripped. And then I...well, JJ and I suggested that he get back at them, and he had superglue in his pocket-"

"Superglue?" Hotch said. "Where'd he get that?"

"No clue," Penelope said. "But the bully wasn't even hurt badly, he didn't even get stuck for very long, which is the real tragedy about the whole situation. And then the coach gave Spencer detention."

"Is that where he is right now?" Hotch asked. Penelope nodded, and he sighed heavily. "Sorry, Haley, I...I've got to go. Spencer's one of the kids on my floor, and he's super young, I need to check on him."

"Yeah, sure," Haley said. "See you next week, Aaron."

She walked away and his mouth drooped. "Another successful conversation with the girl of my dreams," he said. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

He grabbed Penelope by the wrist and dragged her out of the theater. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything," she said. "Spencer didn't want us to tell, and- I'm sorry. They really were picking on him."

"You should have said something," he said tersely.

She followed him in shamed silence. Detention was held in one of the larger lecture halls; it was just a few minutes till five, and they waited in awkward, stiff silence.

"He didn't want us to say anything," Penelope said desperately. Hotch said nothing.

The door opened and students filed out, slow and scowling. Spencer was the last one out, his backpack on his shoulders. He took one look at the welcoming committee and he went pale. "Penelope, you promised," he said. She shrugged helplessly.

"I didn't say anything!" she said. "Things happened. I couldn't stop it."

She waited for Hotch to yell, or scold, or something, but instead he cupped Spencer's chin in his hand. "Where'd this come from?" he asked.

His jawline was swollen, marked in red and purple. "Nothing," he said, but he didn't pull away. "I fell."

"You fell because those idiots tied your shoes together," Penelope said.

"Is that true?" Hotch said. Spencer hesitated, then nodded. "You need to tell us when these things happen."

"It hasn't!" he said. "It's...it's not a big deal. They're just stupid bullies, it's fine, I can handle it-"

"You don't need to handle anything on your own," Hotch said. "There's no reason for you to feel like you have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Spencer's lower lip wobbled. "Can we just...can we talk about this tomorrow, please?" he said. "I'm hungry."

Hotch's eyes narrowed. "Tomorrow," he said. "Tomorrow we'll sit down and talk."

Spencer dug his fingers into his backpack straps and strode down the hall, Hotch at his side, still silent. Penelope trailed behind them, the conversation effectively ended, but she didn't feel quite right about it. It was as if they were putting together a puzzle, and everyone had their own piece, but nobody was talking about how the pieces actually fit together.

* * *

**wednesday**

Spencer dragged himself out of homeroom, hugging his books to his chest. The bruise on his chin still hurt, a slight tender soreness that kept him mindful, but that was fine. It was better than the weight of knowing that Hotch was mad at him.

Dinner had been miserable the night before, quiet and uncomfortable, and he hadn't been able to eat anything. Hotch was angry, he could tell. And he could tell that Penelope and JJ were upset, and that was his fault too. Derek didn't seem to understand, and neither did Alex or Emily. At least Alex seemed to realize something was wrong, asking him quietly if he was feeling all right and offering to get more water or something different to eat. He had told her he was fine, and that he didn't need anything, but she brought him ice wrapped up in a sandwich bag and told him to place it on his jaw, and he almost lost his resolve to not cry right then and there. If she'd hugged him, he probably would have given in.

Hotch didn't speak to him at dinner. He hadn't stuck around to see if he was going to get the cold shoulder at breakfast too; he'd gotten up early and gone straight to homeroom instead, trying to read at his desk but completely unable to focus on the words.

He was supposed to talk to Hotch later, but he didn't want to. Not when he wasn't sure what Hotch would do. Getting yelled at by the coach in front of the entire ninth grade was safer than Hotch being angry with him.

Maybe he'd made a mistake trusting him.

He was almost to his first period class, one of the last stragglers, but a big hand with a bandaged palm grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back.

* * *

"Aaron, a word?"

Hotch straightened, dropping his books on his desk and straightening his blazer. "Yes, sir?" he said.

Gideon waved him over to his desk. "I wanted to talk about the essay you wrote," he said.

He resisted the urge to fiddle with his sleeve cuffs. "Was there something wrong with it?" he asked. "I researched-"

"No, no, you did very well," Gideon said. He handed him the paper with a bold 97 in red at the top. "You raised some excellent points and argued for them very well."

"Thank you," he said. "I...I'm really enjoying your psychology class, sir. I'm learning a lot."

Gideon tilted his head. "I know you're only a junior, but have you been considering any particular fields after graduation?" he asked.

"Law school," he said promptly. "That's the end goal.

"Law school, law school," Gideon echoed, half to himself. "I could see that. You'd do well." He checked his watch. "Didn't realize how late it was. Go on, take your seat, I should probably teach something."

Hotch went back to his desk, holding his essay carefully, the unaccustomed praise burning warm and pleasant in his chest. When he started at St. Thaddeus in the ninth grade, he had a reputation for two things- never doing his assignments, and losing his temper and getting detention. He'd worked hard to get where he was, all on his own, and it was a relief to hear validation.

Gideon started class, but for a moment Hotch's mind wandered. He needed to talk to Spencer. Last night would have been a bad time- he was too angry to speak calmly. Angry that Spencer was being bullied, angry that Spencer felt he couldn't talk to anyone about it, angry that Spencer got detention and his tormentors didn't get anything.

He had hoped to say something to him at breakfast, but Derek said he'd left early. Maybe he could talk to him at lunch, or maybe take him to the Honeybean after school, let him get a coffee and a snack. That would cheer him up. Maybe he could talk to Alex, see if she could be there too. She was really good with the kid, he might be more likely to open up if she was there.

"Aaron?"

He sat up, ashamed of daydreaming. "Yes, sir?" he said.

"Can you run down to the supply closet and grab some more of these things?" Gideon said, shaking his whiteboard marker. "Damn thing's dried up."

"Yes, sir," he said.

Gideon tossed him his keyring. "Small blue one," he said. "Do you know where the closet is?"

"Yes, sir," he said. "I'll be right back."

* * *

His blazer was ripped. They'd ripped it right down the back, clawing the fabric apart, rending it unrepairable. And he couldn't afford a new one.

"So you like superglue, huh?" Dallas said. He dangled a full tube of it in front of Spencer's face. "You're not the only one who can get your hands on it." He glanced over at Neal, who rolled his eyes. "Pun unintended."

The bigger kid keeping Spencer pinned in place grunted. "When you guys said you wanted to get revenge, I figured you'd like...give him a swirly instead."

"Yeah, and that he'd be an actual ninth grader," the other kid added. "You didn't tell us he was a baby."

"He's a dick," Neal said. "You know he never shuts up in classes? He never fucking shuts up, just blurts out all the answers."

"I'll be quiet," Spencer said. "I won't say anything. I promise. I promise, I won't."

Dallas grinned. "I think I know what we need to glue first," he said. Spencer pressed his lips together. "Open up, Spencer Weed."

He tried to squirm, tried to get away, tried to kick the older boy holding him in place. But it was useless. Dallas unscrewed the top.

The door to the supply closet swung open.

* * *

Hotch stared into the supply closet, his brain unable to register what he was seeing. There were four boys in there, all startled, and then he noticed the fifth boy on the floor.

It clicked slowly. The older boy holding Spencer's arms behind his back. The terror in his big brown eyes. The uncapped glue.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he bellowed. He reached for Spencer; the older kid let go of him and Hotch grabbed him by the arm, pulling him tight against his side. "He is ten fucking years old!"

The two younger boys backed away, pale in the dim light. "Dude, we...we didn't mean to…" one of them stammered.

"No, it looks like you fucking meant to!" Hotch shouted.

The lights flipped on. "What is going on here?" the teacher snapped.

"Mr. Gideon sent me down here," Hotch said, holding up the keyring. "I found these...these idiots torturing Spencer."

The teacher glanced around, taking in the scene. "Is he all right?" she asked at last.

"I'm not hurt," Spencer said in a small, shaking voice. He pointed to the bruise on his chin. "This is from yesterday."

"Which they did to him too," Hotch added.

The teacher scanned them. "You four," she said. "Come with me. Mr. Hotchner, can you bring him down to the office when he's had a moment to calm down?"

"Yes," he said. "Absolutely."

He half dragged Spencer back out into the relative safety of the hallway, holding tight to his narrow shoulder. The four older boys walked out with their heads hanging, following the teacher down the hall.

Hotch watched them go, and the second they were gone he knelt down, gripping Spencer's upper arms. "Okay, kiddo, talk to me," he said. "Did they hurt you? Are you okay?"

Spencer stared down the hall as if he was still watching them go, his folded fingers pressed against his lower lip. "They ripped it," he said in a small voice.

"Ripped what?" Hotch asked. He smoothed Spencer's hair out of his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"They ripped my blazer," Spencer said. "They ripped it, and it can't be fixed, and I don't know how I'm gonna get a new one."

"We'll get you a new one," Hotch promised. He moved his hands so he was holding him at his waist, his fingers pressing to his hollow ribs. "Can you hear me? We'll get you a new one, it doesn't matter."

"But they ripped it," he whispered, dazed.

"Spencer," Hotch said firmly. "Things can be replaced. We can't replace you. Do you understand me?" He gave him a little shake. "Do you understand that you're more important than things?"

Spencer turned back towards him and blinked slowly. "Are you mad at me?" he asked sadly.

"No," Hotch said firmly. "Not at all. Not even in the slightest." He pulled Spencer into a tight hug, and after a moment he felt him sag against him, small and limp against his shoulder. "I'm not mad." He pressed his hand to the back of his head. "We'll stay here until you're ready, okay?"

Spencer nodded. He was quiet and still for a long time, his arms wound around Hotch's neck. After a while he pulled back, his eyes dry but red-rimmed, as if he desperately wanted to cry but didn't dare to. "I'm ready," he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Let's go."

* * *

JJ pressed the phone closer to her ear. "Are you serious?" she said.

"Yes!" Penelope said, a little too loud and piercing. "That's why Hotch and Spencer weren't at lunch. They made both of them write a bunch of witness statements."

"What's going to happen?" she asked, glancing back at the field. They hadn't started yet, she still had a little time.

"Not sure yet," Penelope said. "All four of them are in trouble. Like _big_ trouble."

"Is Spencer okay?" JJ asked.

"A little shaken up, I think, but he's not talking about it," Penelope said. "You know how he is. He's talking about everything else under the sun. Alex is _beside_ herself. She gave away her library shift for this afternoon, she and James took him for coffee."

"Well, I hope this means everything is over now," JJ said.

"Jareau!" the team captain called. "Get over here, we're starting."

"Sorry, Pen, I gotta go," she said. "See you later, bye."

She ended the call and dropped her phone in her pocket. It was their first scrimmage, and she was trying to ignore the nervousness threatening to make her nauseous. It was a real kind of game, and there were real people watching in the bleachers.

Not her friends, though. She wasn't ready for that. She hadn't even told them they could come.

The coach and the captain rounded them up for a pep talk and a run through of things to remember before sending them out to the field. Positions were called out, but JJ found herself left behind. "Everybody else, take a seat, you'll be sent in to substitute," the coach said.

So JJ took a seat.

And she sat.

And she sat.

And she sat.

And by the time the scrimmage ended, she never got up.

Frustration boiled under her skin. She didn't force herself to try out for this stupid team to sit on the bench. She didn't sweat to death during practice four times a week to sit on the bench. She didn't do this to do nothing.

"Great work, girls," the coach said. "Now, I've got some notes-"

JJ didn't listen. Her blood roared in her ears and she gritted her teeth. As soon as they were sent back to the locker room, she stepped up to the coach. "Hi," she said. "I have a question."

"Sure," the coach said absently, still busy with paperwork.

"Why didn't I get to play?" she asked.

The coach glanced up. "I didn't need any subs," she said.

"So why didn't I get picked for first string?"

The coach sighed heavily and set down the paperwork. "You're...not quite ready," she said. "You've got talent, or else you wouldn't have made the team. But you're not ready for a game. Soon, though."

"I can do it," she said, squeezing her hands into tight fists, her knuckles going white. "I can. If you just give me a chance-"

"It's the beginning of the season," the coach laughed, and the laugh made her angrier. "Don't stress about it, there's going to be plenty of games and scrimmages coming up. You'll get to play, Jenny, don't worry."

"That's not my name!" she screamed, her fingernails digging into her palm. "You can't call me that!"

The coach's pleasant expression faded. "That's enough," she said. "You're benched for the next match. You behave like that again, you'll be benched longer. Maybe even taken off the team. I don't tolerate temper tantrums."

"Yes, ma'am," she said through her teeth, and she turned and stalked away. The anger began to cool in the back of her neck, but she didn't mind. It was worth it. The coach should have let her play. She shouldn't have left her on the bench.

And no one was allowed to call her Jenny. Only one person was ever permitted to call her that, and she wasn't there anymore.

* * *

Emily propped her phone up against her pillow and watched time tick down. She was tired, tired enough to fall asleep, but she needed to stay up just a little bit longer.

Alex closed the door behind her as she walked in, dressed in her pajamas and her long hair brushed smooth down her back. "Hey," she said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Emily said.

"You're usually asleep by now," Alex said as she sat down on her bed. "It's almost midnight and you're usually out like a light by ten-thirty."

"Don't tell anybody that, you'll ruin my reputation," Emily teased, but Alex didn't laugh. She sat up, setting her phone in the middle of the pillow. "I should ask you the same question. You doing okay? I know this whole Spencer thing has you-"

Alex sighed. "That poor baby," she said. "I can't believe he was trying to handle all of this on his own. That's too much pressure for one little kid to bear."

"He seemed okay at dinner," Emily offered.

"Better, at least," Alex said. "He was so quiet this afternoon, it wasn't like him." She tilted her head. "Do you know who was acting weird at dinner today, though? JJ."

"Okay, good, it's not just me," Emily said, pulling her comforter up and bundling it around her arms. "She was acting really fucking weird. She was super late, ate a bowl of mashed potatoes and two bowls of ice cream, and stormed out."

"Maybe she just had a rough time at practice," Alex offered. She ran her fingers through her long hair. "I think it's just been a really rough week. But tomorrow night we'll go to Derek's football game, and then maybe we can do something nice on the weekend to make up for how shitty everything else has been."

"Yeah, maybe," Emily said. She feigned a yawn. "You good to turn lights out? I'm really looking forward to French class tomorrow. We have a test on colors."

Alex laughed. " _Bonne nuit,_ Emily," she said, switching off her lamp.

Emily slid back under the covers, pulling them up to her shoulders, and picked up her phone. She fiddled around, swapping from app to app to app, waiting for the time to roll over. By the time midnight hit she could hear Alex's deep steady breathing, already deep asleep.

She opened her chat app and scrolled around for the correct name. The last time she'd seen him had been a Friday morning; every Friday morning she sent him a message. It was early in the morning his time, just barely seven.

She typed out her message, updating him about what was happening, how things were going. He hadn't messaged her back yet, not in weeks, but she had to try anyways.

Emily sent the message, paused, and then typed out a second message, breaking own of her own private rules.

 _I miss you, Matthew,_ she wrote, and after a pause she deleted it. Instead she closed the app, checked to make sure her alarm was set, and tried to make herself go to sleep.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO FUN STORY
> 
> I started working on this chapter yesterday and it was NOT WORKING, which is why I wasn't able to update yesterday. I ended up scrapping what I wrote and started again! I think it ended up turning out pretty well, though, it's a pretty long chapter but it's also pretty substantial. 
> 
> Part of this was inspired by MGG's tweet about how Spencer once superglued a bully's chin to a pull-up bar when he was nine. So...I decided to make that happen. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments!! I'm behind on replying to all my comments (for this and for WTAW) so I'm going to make sure everything gets answers in the next day or two!!
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr if you'd like to chat and be pals!
> 
> and a special shoutout to Faby and Steph for helping with this chapter!!


	10. high hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's first football game brings up high hopes, but they might get dashed.

_Mama said_   
_It's uphill for oddities_   
_Stranger crusaders_   
_Ain't ever wannabes_   
_The weird and the novelties_   
_Don't ever change_   
_We wanted everything, wanted everything_

\--"High Hopes" by Panic! at the Disco

* * *

Alex flipped on the lights; Emily groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. "Seriously, Prentiss, I'm leaving for breakfast in like fifteen minutes," she said. "Get up or I'm leaving without you."

"I'm up, I'm up," Emily grumbled.

Alex leaned closer to her mirror, combing her long hair through her fingers. "I really will leave without you," she warned.

Emily dragged herself out of bed. Yesterday's makeup made charcoal smears under her eyes. "I'll be ready in fifteen minutes, I swear," she yawned, grabbing her clothes off the back of her chair on her way out the door.

"We'll see," Alex said. She pulled the sides of her hair back deftly, tying it back with an elastic and looping a dark blue satin ribbon into a bow around it. Admittedly she could probably take her time, there was no need to get to the dining hall the second it opened, but she was worried. Hadn't stopped worrying, really, since the moment she'd gotten the text from Hotch about Spencer.

She'd texted one of the juniors on rotation to come over and finish out her shift at the library; the second they made it over she ran to the main office, catching a stony-faced Hotch and a quiet Spencer on their way out.

For a moment they'd stared at each other, and after taking a split second to weigh her options she'd suddenly held out her hand to Spencer. "I could use some coffee," she'd said brightly. "Want to come with me?"

He stayed silent, but he'd taken her hand, and she privately rejoiced.

Hotch sketched out the details later- what he'd seen, what he'd heard. How Spencer was more focused on the damage done to his school uniform than anything else.

The whole situation was so frustrating. Frustrating that this child had been at school for two weeks, and he already had a target painted on his back. Frustrating that there were so many things he wouldn't- or couldn't- tell them. Frustrating that she couldn't step in and fix this.

Emily banged the door open. "All right, all right, I'm...mostly ready," she said. Her shirt was still untucked and her tie was slung around her neck like a scarf, but her eyeliner was impeccable and her glossy hair was brushed smooth. "See? I told you. Less than fifteen minutes." She paused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Alex said. She looked Emily up and down. "You're sure you're ready?"

Emily grabbed her blazer and wadded it up into her Kate Spade backpack. "Yeah!" she said. "Come on, I need caffeine or I'm not going to survive today."

"And it's going to be a long day," Alex sad. "We're going to Derek's game tonight."

"Oh, I'm gonna need a _lot_ of caffeine, then."

* * *

Hotch rubbed his eyes, the noise of the dining hall blurring in his ears. "Guys, can you just...cool it for a second?" he said. Penelope and Derek continued to bicker; JJ scooped up a third cinnamon roll while Spencer had a book propped up on his tray instead of a plate. All things considered, a fairly typical morning, but all he wanted was to have a normal, quiet breakfast for once, without having to worry about the well-being of four children.

Emily slammed down her tray next to him, half out of uniform and her oversized cross earrings jangling in her ears. "Morning, Hotchner," she said.

He sighed. Five children. "Hi, Emily," he said.

"You doing all right?" she asked. "The circles under your eyes make you look like a Scooby Doo villain."

"You're so kind," he deadpanned.

To his surprise, she reached around him and swatted JJ's hand lightly. "Put the spoon down, Jareau, that's enough," she said.

Someone touched his elbow lightly. "She's right, you know, you look like you didn't get any sleep last night," Alex said. "Everything okay?"

He shrugged. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, but he also wasn't accustomed to people inquiring about his welfare. "I'll be all right," he said. "Just…" He nodded towards Spencer.

Her lips thinned. "We'll talk about that later," She said. She set two plates down on her tray, then gave Spencer's shoulder a loving little squeeze. "What book are you reading?"

"Out of the Silent Planet," he said, holding it up so she could see the cover.

"Ah, the Cosmic trilogy," she said. She took the book from him, checking the page number before closing the cover, and tucked it under her arm. "You can tell me all about it during breakfast. What do you want?"

Hotch exhaled slowly, a little bit of the stress relaxing out of his tense shoulders. He did need to talk to Alex later- he'd been able to tell her about some of yesterday's incident, but maybe if the three of them could sit Spencer down, they could start unraveling whatever was wrong with the kid.

He reached for a glossy red-and-yellow apple when someone beat him to it. "Sorry," Haley said, laughing. His fingertips brushed against the back of her hand and he jumped back like he'd just touched a hot stove. "Do you want this one? I'm not even sure I want an apple anyway."

"No, no, it's fine," he stammered. "I don't-"

He turned around, and saw her in her cheerleading uniform- navy crop top and skirt trimmed in white, _Titans_ embroidered in gold across the front, her hair tied up with a big bow. The rest of his sentence fell completely out of his brain. She smiled at him and held out the apple. "You had it first," she said.

"You look nice," he blurted out.

She laughed, hiding her face a little, and he wanted to die. Maybe he was dying. "They always have us wear our uniforms to classes for home games," she said. "It's so weird, though. They're always harping on having our ties properly tied and checking to see if our skirts are the right length, and yet here I am."

"Yeah, here you am," he said. "Are. Here you are." He cleared his throat. "Blue's, uh...a good color on you."

If she noticed that he was having a complete and utter meltdown, she didn't let on. "Thanks, it's the whole reason why I wanted to come here," she said.

He frowned. "Really?" he said.

"No!" she laughed. "Are you coming to the game tonight?"

"Uh-huh," he said. "I've got a friend on the football team, I have to go see him play or he'll kill me." He shifted his weight. "And, uh...it'll be nice to see you, too."

She smiled and tossed him the apple; he caught it, nearly upending his tray in the process. "I'll see you tonight, then," she said, and she disappeared back into the crowd.

He watched her walk away, his stomach twisted up pleasantly, until he was poked sharply in the arm. "Hey, can you move?" the student behind him said impatiently. "You're holding up the line."

He jumped, fumbling to keep the apple in his hand, and hurried over to their usual table. They'd left a seat for him between Derek and JJ; the apple rolled across the table and Penelope caught it. "Oh, I shouldn't touch this, _Haley_ touched it," she teased.

"Cut it out, Garcia," he said, the back of his neck heating up.

Emily perked up. "Ooh, who's Haley?" she asked.

"Haley Brooks," Derek grinned. "He's had a crush on her since last year."

The heat crept up to his ears. "I don't have a crush on her!" he protested.

"Really?" JJ said. "You talked to her for like thirty seconds and now look like you're about to throw up. That's usually a good sign of a crush."

"I'm...yeah, maybe I'm just sick," he said. "Can we talk about something else?" Derek opened his mouth. "Not football. We know you're excited about the game." Derek rolled his eyes.

Spencer leaned across the table to reach for another napkin; he was kneeling on his chair instead of sitting and he nearly dragged his tie through his plate. "I've never been to a real sports game before," he said. "I played T-ball when I was little, but...that went as well as you probably expect."

Alex frowned as he dropped back into his chair. "Spencer, you can't wear that," she said. "Your blazer is completely ripped down the back."

"I don't have any other choice," he said glumly. "I can't go without it, but I'll get written up anyway."

"You can wear your cardigan, or your pullover," Penelope suggested.

He leaned his elbows on the table. "I don't have either," he said. "My scholarship covered the basic uniform pieces, but nothing extra."

JJ rummaged in her backpack. "You can borrow mine," she said. "They're unisex and it has the right house on it, nobody will say anything."

Spencer wriggled out of his blazer and draped it over the back of his chair. "Wait, I'm going to go wash my hands, I'm covered in syrup," he said, sliding down to the floor.

"Is it really not fixable?" Hotch asked.

Alex smoothed it out. "I'm not sure," she said. "It's a tear in the fabric, not a popped seam."

"How'd he tear it, anyway?" Derek asked.

Emily shot Hotch a sharp look. "You didn't tell him?" she said.

"He was at football," he said.

"Tell me what?" Derek pressed.

Hotch hesitated. "A couple of...older kids," he said. "They cornered Spencer in a supply closet." He drummed his fingers agains the table. "Short version, I guess...they were planning to do something shitty to him. Would have done something shitty, if I hadn't caught them."

"Somebody would seriously try to hurt a little kid like him?"

"He's an easy target."

"You're sure it wasn't just a silly prank that got out of control?" Derek said. "People do dumb shit to each other all the time."

Hotch glanced around, making sure Spencer wasn't anywhere close by. "They had superglue," he said. "They had him pinned on the floor and they were talking about gluing his mouth shut."

"Jesus," Derek breathed.

"We have to keep an eye out for him, you guys. We can't let anything like this happen to him again."

Spencer ran back to the table. "You're sure no one will know I'm wearing your cardigan?" he asked. "I'd rather not offer any more ammunition for teasing than I already have."

Hotch frowned at Derek, trying to convey a _see? I told you so_ with his expression. Derek gave a slight nod back as JJ helped him into the sweater. "You look fine," she said, buttoning it over Spencer's chest. "And you won't get in trouble this way."

"You'll be fine," Hotch reassured him. "And if anyone gives you any trouble, you come find one of us, okay? Any of us."

"I'll be okay," Spencer said, squinting at the embroidered logo on the cardigan. Hotch wasn't convinced, but he didn't need to start anything at the breakfast table.

Later. They could talk later.

* * *

JJ watched the patches of colored light shine on the floor through the stained glass window as the school chaplain droned through a prayer. Chapel always made her a little sleepy, but it was impossible to get comfortable in the straight-backed wooden pews.

Then again, she could see Penelope's head tipping forward in the row ahead of her, so maybe it wasn't completely impossible for everybody.

She glanced across the aisle. Spencer was easy to pick out, his little legs dangling above the floor. Her sweater was a bit too big for him, bunching around his hips and the sleeves almost covering his small hands. He'd grow into it, though. She was going to let him keep it anyway- she didn't wear the cardigan much, and if she wanted a new one that badly all she needed to do was mention it to her mom during their weekly phone call.

The chaplain finished the prayer with a final amen and dismissed them; JJ picked up her backpack and pulled her long braid free from the strap before crossing through traffic to get across the aisle. "Hey, Spence," she said. "Are you ready for gym?"

He wrinkled his nose. "I'm never ready for gym class," he said. He slid off the pew and followed her out of the chapel. "I get that they're trying to make us active, but really, it would be more beneficial to let us go outside and play during recess than forcing us to play kickball and basketball."

"Yeah, I'd definitely like that better too," JJ said. "Derek said there's a playground somewhere on campus. Maybe we can go out there tomorrow or Sunday."

"Aren't your soccer games starting this weekend?" he asked.

She shrugged. "They don't need the whole team for every game," she lied. "I'll probably play next week."

They made the hike to the gym, but she tugged him aside before they went inside. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"If those guys give you a hard time," she said. She bit her lip. She wasn't exactly sure what to say. "Neal and Dallas. If they do anything to you, or say anything...just stay close to me and Penelope, okay?"

"I can take care of myself," he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"I know, I know you can," she reassured him. "But just in case. Stick with us. After what happened yesterday…"

Her voice trailed off, but he gave her a tight little nod. "Thanks, JJ," he said, and he disappeared into the boys' locker room.

She went to her usual spot in the girls' locker room, setting her bag down on the bench and unbuttoning her blazer. "Hey, Jareau," a voice called. "I heard you got benched from your next game."

The noisy locker room quieted for a moment. "It's not a big deal," she said, trying to keep her voice light.

"I heard you yelled at Coach," another girl piped up.

"It was just a misunderstanding," JJ said, digging ruthlessly in her locker for her gym clothes.

"What happened?" the first girl said. "I heard a rumor that-"

JJ grabbed her clothes and retreated to a bathroom stall, closing the latch behind her. She stood there for a moment, her gym uniform hugged to her chest, and breathed deeply until the hot frustration in her chest began to subside.

* * *

"Hey, Derek!"

He paused, his tray balanced in his hands. On one side of the dining hall he could see his friends at their usual table, an empty chair reserved for him, but on the other he could see his new teammates, flanked by multiple members of the cheer squad, waving him over.

Maybe, just for today, he'd sit with the team.

"Hey, guys," he said with a grin that he hoped came across as easy and casual, setting his tray down at an empty place. The starstruck feeling in his chest danced around his ribcage, threatening to burst out. "How's it going?"

He'd expected them to be in good moods, looking forward to the first game of the season, but Thornton's face was as red as his hair, and Maclain's mouth was pulled down in a frown. "Did you hear about Willis and Lamb?" he asked.

"No, what happened?" Derek said.

Thornton threw his fork down on his plate with a sharp clatter. "Two of the JV boys asked them to help pull a prank on a kid in their history class," he said. "They got caught and the whole thing got blown out of proportion."

"The JV boys got off with detention, but Willis and Lamb got suspended from tonight's game," Maclain said.

"They're older, so they should have 'known better'," Thornton said in disgust. "We're fucked! They were supposed to be starting tonight."

We've been practicing for two weeks with them as starters," Maclain said. "Now we have to go into our first game with pinch-hitters."

Maclain's girlfriend wrapped her arms around his neck, her platinum blonde hair falling over his shoulder. Derek had never been this close to Alexa Lisbon before, and the starstruck feeling intensified. "You'll be fine, baby," she said. "There's no way you'll let us get beat by a stupid little public school."

"And at least it's a home game," Harper Hillman added. "They're on our turf, they'll be extra nervous."

"Besides, from what I heard, that kid deserved whatever Willis and Lamb did," Thornton added.

The starstruck sense began to fade, the bubbling warmth slowly replaced by a cold tight knot at the pit of his stomach. "When you say 'kid,' you mean Spencer Reid, right?" Derek said. "The little kid?"

"Yeah, he's what...twelve?" Thornton said.

"Ten," Derek said. "Guys, you can't seriously think that a kid as small as him could do anything-"

"Why?" Alexa asked, her green eyes round and innocent as she tilted her head. "He a friend of yours?"

"My, uh….my roommate, actually," Derek said. "He seriously is just a little kid. There's no way he could possibly do anything to anybody on the team."

"I don't know," Maclain said. "Getting two players suspended is pretty serious business."

Derek glanced back at the table. He could see Spencer sitting with the rest of the group, his elbows on the table as he read his book, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up over his skinny elbows. "I'll talk to him," he said. "He won't bother anybody else. I swear. I'll keep an eye on him."

"We'll see," Maclain said. He turned to Alexa. "Babe, have you met Morgan yet? He's only a sophomore and Coach is letting him start today."

Alexa turned towards him, as if she'd just noticed his presence, and smiled. "Hi," she said. "Wow, you must be pretty talented."

The starstruck feeling was back in full force. "I try," he said, and she laughed pleasantly.

"You're so cute," she said. "Good luck tonight, Morgan."

"Thanks," he said, and already the worry that had begun to gather like stormclouds around him faded away.

* * *

So far she had changed her outfit three times, and nothing seemed right. A dress? Shorts and a cute top? Her shortalls that had never steered her wrong before? But she should probably dress in school colors, that seemed appropriate, but if she was going to wear navy it was going to throw off the rest of her palette.

"Just pick something, Penelope!" she said aloud, looking in despair at the clothes heaped on the floor and her bed.

At the last second she picked the top from one outfit and the bottom from another, ending up with a navy and white striped short sleeve top and a denim pinafore. Still school spirit-ish, still comfy, and still covered in pockets so she wouldn't need to carry a bag for her phone and her keys.

If she hadn't spent all this time on her outfit, she could have spent more time putting on makeup. Her grandmother threw her hands up in despair every time she wore makeup- _you're just a little girl, Penny, there's time for that later!_ \- but she liked it, even if she'd learned primarily from YouTube videos. Maybe she could get Emily to show her how to do her eyeliner.

She tied a navy bandana in her hair as a headband and jammed her feet into a pair of white sneakers on her way out the door. The game hadn't started quite yet, but everyone else had met up earlier, and not only was she going to be late, but she just knew they were going to give her a hard time for being late.

There was a shortcut around there somewhere, though. It was a decent hike to get from the dorms to the football field if she went the usual way, but Dave and James had said something about cutting across an abandoned amphitheater.

She wasn't exactly the greatest at navigation, and they weren't kidding that the place was abandoned, but she found it eventually. The gate was long overgrown with ivy and lamb's ear, but she rattled the rusty latch and it creaked open.

If there was more time she could definitely stop to explore. Walking into the amphitheater was a complete Secret Garden moment; the only thing that could make it better would be the appearance of a charming country lad and his trained robin. "This is what you get for dawdling," she said aloud, the only sound in the cool shaded air, and even though she wanted to stop and enjoy the wild roses and wander around the crumbling concrete steps, she had to go.

The opposite side backed up to a wire fence covered in foliage, but she was able to pull the wires apart far enough to crawl through. She could hear the music from the school marching band now, the football field wasn't too far away.

"Hey!" a voice barked. "What are you doing out here?"

She jumped. "I'm just...uh, I'm sorry, I'm late for the game, I was taking a shortcut," she said. Two men in security team shirts loomed over her and she took a step back. "I'm sorry."

"Where's your ID?" one of them asked.

She fumbled it out of her pocket and held it up. "I really am sorry, I know I shouldn't be back here," she babbled. "It's just that I'm running late, I couldn't decide on my outfit, my friends are already at the game-"

The officer copied her name down and thrust the card back to her. "We'll let you off with a warning," he said. "Students aren't allowed back here."

She took the card back, the edges digging into her palm as she squeezed it too tightly. "I'm sorry," she offered again.

"Get out of here," the other officer said. "We catch you back here again, it'll be more than a warning."

She nodded, unable to speak, and ran.

* * *

James shifted around on the silver bleachers, trying to get comfortable, but that was going to be impossible. Even if the benches weren't the worst things in the world to sit on, the early September sun beat down mercilessly, making sweat drip down his neck. Not exactly the kind of situation he was hoping for, not when Alex was sitting next to him, close enough for their thighs to touch. She was wearing a white eyelet sundress and her hair was tied up in a bun with a floral bow, but she wasn't paying attention to the game- or him, for that matter.

"Alex, did you seriously pack books for this?" Dave said.

"Mm-hm," she said. "And I have a backup. Just in case."

"Who brings books to a football game?" Hotch said, scrunching his nose.

Spencer held up his book. "Me," he said.

Dave laughed. "You walked into that one, Hotchner," he said. "Not much of a sports fan, huh, _passerotto?_ "

"Not particularly," he said. He squinted out towards the field. "Besides, I can't see anything."

"Short people problems," Emily teased. She ruffled Spencer's hair. "I'm sure you'll grow eventually."

"Emily, how are you not dying out here?" James asked, raising his voice to be heard over the voice on the PA system announcing the names of the cheerleaders. "I'm sweating to death in a tee shirt and shorts, you look like you're auditioning to play Lydia Deetz."

"Oh, no, I'm sweating to death," Emily said. "But I'm committed to this look. If I show up dressed like Miller, you guys would think there was something wrong with me."

"True," Dave admitted.

Penelope raced into their row, red-faced and out of breath. "Hi! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't pick an outfit, I'm sorry, I'm here!" she said.

Hotch leaned back so she could scoot past them and plunk down between him and JJ. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah!" she said. "Fine! Absolutely fine! Have I missed anything?"

"They're just announcing the cheerleaders, I think," James said.

Emily straightened up. "Somebody point out which one Hotchner likes, I didn't see her this morning!" she said.

"That one," Dave said. "Second row, on the end."

Emily craned her neck. "The little blonde one?" she said. "Oh my god, she's so cute!" She leaned across Alex and James to smack Hotch lightly on the arm. "I'm surprised, Hotchner, you have good taste. She's adorable."

Hotch's face reddened. "I don't know why you guys think I have a crush on her," he said stiffly.

"Oh, I've seen how you act around her in theatre club, you're _totally_ in love with her," Penelope said. "You're almost as bad as James is around-"

"Hey, they're bringing the players out!" James interrupted, his voice rising into a shriek. "Where's Derek, anybody see him?"

Spencer stood up, trying to get a better look. Alex glanced up from her book and tugged him over to sit on her lap. "He's right down there," she said. "See? Number thirty-three."

"I've never seen a football match before," Spencer said. He frowned. "Is it match, or game?"

"Game," JJ said. "Here, I'll tell you it works, I watch football every Sunday with my dad."

"Finally, someone is teaching Spencer something instead of the other way around," Dave teased.

Alex adjusted Spencer on her lap and elbowed James in the ribs in the process. "Sorry, Jamie," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Lean on me all you want."

She smiled up at him. James caught Dave flashing him a thumbs up from the other end of the row and he rolled his eyes.

* * *

Dave tapped his foot in frustration. This wasn't fair. Maybe he should have just said that he was going to the bathroom. Announcing that he was going to go to the concession stand was apparently an open invitation for everyone to place their orders so he could bring them snacks. All he wanted was a soda, and now he was waiting on four drinks, nachos, two soft pretzels, and a hot dog with _nothing on it_ (JJ had been pretty clear about that). And a blue slushie, because Spencer had initially said he didn't want anything, but Alex had sent him a text shortly after he left and offered to pay for it herself.

But who were they kidding? They'd all offered to pay him back, but buying a couple snacks and drinks wouldn't even make a dent on his credit card limit. It was fine. The least he could do, probably.

The student worker behind the counter slid the carrier full of drinks over to him. "We're working on the rest," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine," he said, waving his hand.

There was a considerable line forming at the counter; most likely his massive order was holding everything up. Or maybe it was the pretty girl at the register digging through her purse.

"I'm so sorry, I can't find my wallet," she said. "Oh, god, I might have left it in my car…"

Dave leaned over and held out his credit card. "Don't worry about it," he said.

The girl straightened up. "Oh, you don't have to do that," she said. "I'm sure my wallet's in here somewhere…"

"Really, it's no problem," Dave said. The worker behind the register took his card.

The girl sighed heavily. "You must think I'm an idiot," she said.

"Not at all," he reassured her. "I'd lose my own head if it wasn't attached." She laughed at that, and he grinned at her. "You're from our rival school, I'm guessing."

"What tipped you off?" she said dryly, looking down at her red tee shirt with white letters that spelled out _Crievefield High_. "I figured I should have a little school spirit for the first game of the season."

The cashier handed him his card and he stuffed it back in his wallet, not even bothering to look at the receipt. "Who do you think is gonna win?" he asked.

"Are you kidding?" she said. "St. Thaddeus always beats us. It would take a miracle for us to win."

"Yeah, a miracle," he said.

The worker behind the counter handed over a drink and a package of Starburst to the girl. "Still waiting on your nachos and your pretzels," he said.

"Thanks," Dave said. He caught the girl looking at him, an amused smile quirking up her lips. "My friends sent me to get food."

"Sure they did," she teased. "What's your venmo? Or your Apple Pay, or-"

"Seriously, don't even worry about it," he said.

She tilted her head. "There's going to be a party in town next week," she said. "Would that be a good way to pay you back, giving you an invite?"

"That depends," he said. "Are you going to be there?"

"Absolutely," she said, balancing her drink carefully as she pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her denim shorts. "Give me your number."

He recited it for her. "You want a name to go with that?" he asked.

"Yeah, maybe," she said.

"David," he said. "David Rossi."

"I like that," she said as she typed it in. She glanced up at him. "I'll text you when I know more details."

"Thanks," he said, and she offered him a little wave as she walked away. "Hey, do I...do I get to know your name?"

She disappeared into the crowd, and he scowled until his phone buzzed in his hand.

 **unknown  
6:38pm  
** _Hayden :)_

* * *

"You doing okay, Em?" James asked.

She rested her chin in her hands. "I've seen so many TV shows and movies with American high school sporting events, and I feel cheated," she said. "Glee and Riverdale have lied to me."

"You want me to explain how it works again?" JJ offered.

"No, no, I don't think that's gonna make a difference," she said. She jabbed her thumb towards Alex and Spencer. "These two had the right idea bringing books along."

"Well, if Derek asks about it later, because I'm sure he will, tell him you had a great time," Hotch said. "All you need to know for now is that it's neck and neck."

"Which is honestly a little weird," James said. "We never have this much trouble beating Crievefield."

Dave walked up the steps to their row, his arms laden down. "Okay, somebody help me with these," he complained. Penelope quickly jumped up. "If I forgot anything, you get to go get it yourself."

"Okay, a pretzel for Hotch, a pretzel for Alex, a hot dog with nothing on it for JJ-"

"Thank goodness," JJ said, checking it for signs of rogue ketchup.

"-the nachos are for me, and...I'm guess this is for Spencer," Penelope said.

Spencer glanced up from his book and his eyes lit up. "That's for me?" he said.

"Yeah, don't spill it," Dave said, handing over the giant blue slushie.

Spencer set the book down on the bench and held it reverently with both hands. "I don't...I don't have the money for this though," he objected quietly.

He was still sitting on Alex's lap, and she gave him a little squeeze. "Don't worry about it," she said.

Emily accepted the cup that Dave handed her. The Sprite was cold and bit at her throat as she took a sip, bubbles popping in her mouth. The sun was beginning to set, turning the sky vivid hot pink, but it was still way too hot and humid.

She pulled out her phone and checked her chat app as Penelope peppered JJ with questions about how football worked. Last night's message was still unread. Just like all of the others.

Maybe she should sneak out for a smoke and text him again.

Maybe it was stupid of her to keep trying to message him. Maybe she should give up. Maybe he just didn't want to talk to her anymore.

She hadn't realized her cup was slipping from her hand until James caught it. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, sorry, I just...zoned out for a second there," she said. She hastily stowed her phone back in her pocket. Now wasn't the time to wallow in feelings that she should have given up over the summer, after she was kicked out of her last school, after she spent the summer moping around in her bedroom.

Spencer pushed his long hair out of his eyes. "Hey, Emily?" he said. "Do you have another hair tie?"

"Yeah, come here, babe," she said. He slid off Alex's lap and set his cup down carefully before climbing over to her. She raked her fingers through his silky hair, still smelling faintly like baby shampoo, and drew it up into a ponytail.

"You might need a haircut soon," Hotch said. "When's the last time you had one?"

He scrunched up his face. "Two years ago," he said. "Give or take a few weeks."

Emily tied off his ponytail with a hair tie off her wrist. " _Così bello_ ," she said, and he smiled, his mouth stained blue from his slushie. She smiled back. It wouldn't do her any good to dwell on the past.

* * *

Spencer leaned his head back against Alex's shoulder without thinking. His book was long finished, and it was way too dark to read anyway. The sugar high from his slushie had worn off, and now he was drowsy and comfortable, almost on the verge of dozing off even with the chaotic noise of the football game.

Maybe he did doze off, because the next thing he realized the noises of the football game had gone silent, replaced with a thousand echoing conversations. "Is it over?" he yawned.

"Yeah, it's over," Alex said. "We won't tell Derek you fell asleep."

He slid down from her lap and picked up his book. "Did we win?" he asked.

"Nope," James said.

"First time in at least five years that St. Thaddeus lost their first game of the season," Dave added. "People are gonna be pissed about this."

Hotch yawned. "It's just football," he said. "C'mon, let's go. I want to sleep."

Spencer followed the bigger kids out of the bleachers, hugging his book sleepily to his chest. He was ready to sleep too. His bed at school was the most comfortable one he'd ever slept on, even if he tended to get cold at night with just the one blanket.

It was dark now, the way back to the dorms lit by warm little pathlights, and the sidewalks were clogged with other students heading to their rooms, complaining loudly about the outcome of the game. Spencer tripped over his broken shoelaces, his book fluttering from his hands and his knee striking the ground hard. "Wait for me, guys!" he called, fumbling to retie his shoe. He snatched his book and scrambled to his feet. "Wait for-"

He froze.

He didn't recognize the boys standing in front of him, but it didn't take a genius to scan their freshly showered hair and matching navy tee shirts and realize they were part of the football team.

"Yeah, that's him," one of them said. "The little kid that got Willis and Lamb suspended from playing."

The biggest of the boys loomed over him. "If they'd played tonight, we wouldn't have lost," he said. Spencer took a step back. "Now we're starting the season with a loss on our record. And we never lose. So you know what that means, kid?"

Spencer's mouth went dry. "No," he said in a small voice.

"It means you'd better watch your back, you little shit."

Spencer ran. His torn up shoes caught at the cobblestone walkway, and his lungs seized up, but he ran until he caught sight of Alex's white dress, easy to spot in the moonlight. He threw himself into the middle of the group, hiding between Hotch and James. "Hey, where'd you come from?" Hotch asked.

His heart beat staccato on his ribs. "Stopped to tie my shoe," he gasped.

If they noticed he was out of breath, they didn't mention it, keeping up their conversations. He clutched his book, glancing back every so often to see if he was being followed. He wasn't sure.

"All right, goodnight, everybody," Dave said as they reached Lincoln House. "I gotta drive back home now."

"I'll walk you girls over to Roosevelt," James offered.

Alex touched Spencer's shoulder lightly. "See if you can sleep off that sugar," she teased, but impulsively he threw his arms around her waist and buried his face in her stomach. She paused. "Spencer? Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," he said. She hugged him back, warm and secure. He took a step back and smiled up at her. "I'm fine."

She cupped his chin in her hand and kissed his cheek. "Go get some sleep," she said.

He nodded and followed Hotch and the girls inside, saying his goodnights to JJ and Penelope as they passed their floor. Hotch told him an absent goodnight too, patting his back before disappearing into his room.

Spencer got ready for bed, brushing his teeth and stripping down to his tee shirt and boxer briefs to sleep. He left his hair pulled back in the ponytail, though, and when he crawled into bed and pulled his blanket up to his shoulders he had every intention of going right to sleep.

But he couldn't sleep. And he couldn't even muster up the energy and willpower to pick up a book.

It was late when Derek got back, dumping his bag on the floor by his bed. "You still up?" he said. "I figured you'd be asleep by now."

"No," Spencer said quietly.

He watched him get ready for bed, curled up into his single pillow, but wasn't until Derek was just about to turn off the lights that he had the courage to ask his question out loud.

"Are you mad at me?"

Derek paused. "Why would I be mad at you?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Hotch got those football kids in trouble, and they couldn't play in the game tonight, and you lost," Spencer said.

"That's not your fault, pretty boy," Derek said. "Actions have consequences, and what they did was wrong. And besides...sometimes teams just lose." He smiled at Spencer. "Besides, we got a whole season to play. We'll do fine. Understand?"

"Uh-huh," Spencer said.

Derek reached for the lightswitch, then paused. He crossed over to the closet and pulled down the ivory satin-edged blanket he'd borrowed during movie night. "Here," he said, tossing it to Spencer. "They've got the AC cranked up way too high in here, you're gonna freeze."

"Thank you," Spencer said, startled. Derek turned off the lights, and he laid down, arranging the blanket around himself. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, pretty boy."

He fell asleep almost immediately, but he had the dream again, and he woke up shaking, a scream dying in his throat. No matter how exhaustion pulled at him, he couldn't bear to close his eyes, so he forced himself to stay awake until dawn began to peek into the room, clutching the blanket in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have a lot of notes on this one, but as you can probably tell, I'm setting up some new character arcs- and Spencer's troubles are definitely far from over.
> 
> This was another super late update, but hopefully next week I'll be back to Thursday! And thank you SO much for your comments!! Tomorrow I'll sit down and answer everybody, so if you have questions now is a good time!!


	11. things that you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everybody's pretty good at hiding their issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> potential trigger warning for period talk towards the end

_You've walked a good mile in your brother's shoes_   
_'Til your legs could walk no further_   
_And your tired soles would burn_   
_You know there's peace somewhere around the bend_   
_It's been a long time coming_   
_And you're ready for your turn_

-"Things That You Know" by the Wailin' Jennys

* * *

_**monday** _

This wasn't what he expected after his first football game.

When he was a freshman, it seemed like a party atmosphere settled over the school after every game, a sense of elation rising like helium in the hallways. When he'd daydreamed about his first game on the varsity team, he'd imagined something like that. Even after the loss of the game, he spent the weekend telling himself that it was going to be a good week at school.

He got a few compliments, a few fistbumps and shoulder pats, but it just wasn't the same. Everyone seemed so...depressed. Like gray storms had descended. And yeah, he was bummed that they hadn't won the first game of the season too, _his_ first game of the season, but it really wasn't that big of a deal, wasn't it?

He left his fourth period class, his backpack slung across one shoulder, and ducked into the crowded hallway. A couple people called him out, waving at him, and he grinned back. See, this was the kind of thing he'd worked for. And now he'd earned it.

"Morgan!" somebody called, and he turned, but he wasn't expecting to see Hotch striding towards him, Spencer at his heels.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Hotch tugged him aside, letting the crowd pass them by. "You have history next, right?" he said.

Derek frowned. "Yeah, why?" he said.

"Spencer's fifth period class is in your hall," Hotch said. "Can you walk him to class?"

"I don't need anybody to go with me," Spencer said stiffly.

Hotch ignored him. "JJ and Penelope can get him after fifth to walk him to English comp, and then Alex is going to get him from there to take him with her to the library," he said. "Do you mind?"

"No, I guess not," Derek said. "Come on, pretty boy."

He didn't miss Hotch's look of relief, or Spencer's scowl either. The smaller boy pushed past him down the hall; Derek shrugged and followed him.

He almost lost sight of Spencer a few times. Sometimes he forgot how small the kid actually was, but in the crowd of teenagers he was barely elbow-height to most of them. JJ's borrowed sweater was too big on his skinny frame, and his sun-faded backpack looked like it was a breath away from disintegrating.

He caught up with him on the stairs. "Hey, kid, where are you going in such a hurry?" he said.

"Class," Spencer said shortly. "You don't need to go with me."

"Listen, if Hotch wanted me to go with you, I'm gonna go with you whether you like it or not," Derek said. "You haven't known him as long as I have. When he makes up his mind about something, it's going to happen." He shifted his backpack. "Why does he want me to go with you, do you know?"

Spencer shrugged. "People have been picking on me, I guess," he said. "But I used to navigate the Las Vegas bus system on my own, I think I'll be fine getting through a school by myself," he said.

"Why were you taking the bus by yourself?" Derek asked. "Your parents work a lot?"

Spencer hesitated at the top of the stairs, his hand curling around a spindle since he couldn't comfortably reach the banister. "Something like that," he said.

He picked up his pace again, his thumbs tucked into the shoulder straps of his backpack. Derek kept up with him easily, and when he was close enough he caught him by the shoulder. "Hey," he said, keeping his voice quiet. "You okay?"

Spencer blinked. "I'm fine," he said.

"You didn't sleep all weekend," Derek said.

"How do you know that?"

Derek gave him a gentle little shake. "I'm your roommate, remember?" he said. "I don't think you've slept since the the football game on Friday. You wanna talk about it."

Spencer's insomnia was written all over his face, his big hazel eyes ringed in dark bruises, a stark contrast to the pallor of his thin cheeks. "I-" he started to say, but the bell rang, and he gripped his backpack tighter, his lips pressing together. "I'm going to be late. Thanks for walking with me."

Spencer disappeared into the ninth grade classroom, and Derek bit back a sigh. That kid was physically unable about talking what was wrong with him. Hopefully that wouldn't come back to bite anybody in the ass.

He slipped into his desk as the teacher started taking roll; she caught his eye and shook her head slightly, but she said nothing about marking him tardy. See, this was what he was hoping for. The varsity players could get away with murder. Not that he'd ever attempt murder, but maybe a few little rule infractions here and there.

He opened his history textbook, only half paying attention to what the teacher had to say, but he tuned back when he heard the dreaded phrase _group project._

"...this project is going to take the place of your midterm," the teacher was saying. "You'll need to collaborate on the written paper, and prepare a five to ten minute presentation. I'll give you some time today to pick a partner, and you can start working on your project proposals."

The room erupted with sudden conversation and chairs squeaking on the floor, but before Derek could move, someone swooped in front of his desk. "Hi!" Haley Brooks said brightly. Her blonde hair was precisely curled and held back with a dark blue headband. "Want to be my partner?"

"Uh," he stammered. "Yeah, sure."

She pulled up a chair and sat down, setting her notebook and pen on his desk. Both were monogrammed with her initials. "Do you have any ideas yet?" she asked.

"Not really," he said. "How about you?"

"I have a couple," she said, pulling out the teacher's suggested topic handout. Several options were already circled neatly.

He tilted his head to get a better look. "Well, maybe we could-"

"You're friends with Aaron, right?" she interrupted.

He paused. "I don't...I don't think I know an Aaron," he said. She gave him a funny look. "Oh! Hotch. You mean Hotch. Yeah, we're friends."

She uncapped her pen and circled another option on the page. "Do you know if he's single?" she asked casually.

Derek choked. "Yes," he said. "Extremely single. Definitely...definitely single." He cleared his throat. "Any, uh...any reason why you're asking?"

Haley smiled. "No reason," she said. "Hey, great job in the game on Friday, by the way. Sucks we lost, though."

"Yeah, but there's worse things that could happen," he said.

"True, but a lot of people are pretty crushed," she said. "St. Thaddeus hasn't lost the first game of the season in decades. And certainly not to Crievefield." She glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in closer. "And a lot of people are blaming that little Spencer Reid kid, since he got Willis and Lamb suspended. You should probably keep a close eye on him."

Derek's heart squeezed in his chest. "Why?" he said.

She bit her lip. "I don't know why people are so pissed, they were being awful and he's just a little kid," she said. "And you're right, it was only one game. But...you know how people can be about sports around here. They get a little too intense about it."

"Yeah," he said slowly. He thought of Hotch insisting that he walk Spencer to class, and the dark circles under Spencer's eyes. "Thanks for letting me know."

* * *

_**tuesday** _

Alex picked up a stack of books from the cart, double checking the author's name on the spines. "These go in the 920s, please," she said, handing them over to James.

He reached over her head and placed the books in the correct place on the shelf. "How do you do this when I'm not around?" he asked.

"I have my ways," she said. "I'm not that short, you know."

"Yeah, these shelves are just freakishly tall," James teased. She handed him a couple more books and he shelved them where she pointed.

"You know you don't have to do this," she said. "I do this by myself all the time."

"I don't mind," he said. "My homework's done anyway."

She knelt down to place a book on a lower shelf. "Have you heard back from the hospital yet?" she asked. "About the internship?"

"Not yet," he said. "Hopefully I'll hear back soon, though." He raked his hair back from his forehead. "Getting that internship could make or break me getting into a decent college."

She smiled at him as she picked up another book. "I'm sure you'll get it, Jamie," she reassured him.

He smiled back at her, and there was a specific sort of softness in his eyes that he only seemed to manage for her. She paused for a moment, a light warmth heating at the back of her neck even though she wasn't sure why, and the book slipped from her hands to the floor. She picked it up hastily and dropped it on the correct shelf. "Can you hand me the next one?" she asked.

"That's all of them," James said, dropping his hands to the handle of the book cart. "Are there more on the desk?"

"Probably," she said.

He pushed the cart through the stacks; she dropped back behind him. She forgot sometimes how much taller James had gotten, how much taller he was than her now. When they were freshman they were the same height.

The library wasn't too crowded, just a handful of students scattered across the tables. Their own little group had taken over the sitting area by the long-dormant fireplace, a relic from the oldest days of the school. Dave was stretched out on a couch, his homework lying discarded on his lap while he studied his phone. Emily and Spencer sat on the floor together, her blazer wadded up in a heap beside her and her math textbook open between them.

"No, no, you don't multiply," he said, bright and animated, waving around his pencil. "No, see, go through the steps again."

"How does this make sense to you?" Emily complained.

He shrugged. "It just does," he said. "Anyways, see, if you do it like this-"

Alex smoothed Spencer's untidy hair. "Helping Emily with her homework?" she asked.

"Spencer. Tiny genius. Light of my life. I will _pay_ you to do my homework," Emily said.

"That's wildly unethical," he said.

"Out of the mouths of babes," James said. He plunked down on the edge of the couch, startling Dave into dropping his phone. Alex caught it before it hit the floor, then paused.

"Ooh, Hayden?" she said. "David, who's Hayden?"

"Is that the girl you went out with last October?" James asked.

"Heidi, I think."

"No, that was Hannah," Dave corrected. "Can I have my phone back, please?"

"Ah, we have the first David Rossi girlfriend of the school year," James said. "Took longer than I thought."

"She's not my girlfriend," Dave protested. "I just met her at the game on Friday, she goes to Crievefield. She invited me to a party next week-"

Emily perked up. "A party?" she said. She tossed her math book aside, eliciting a startled shriek from Spencer. "Oh my god. Dave. David Rossi."

"His middle name's Stephen," Alex added helpfully.

"David Stephen Rossi. Light of my life."

"I thought I was the light of your life," Spencer protested.

"Please take me with you to this party," she begged. She clasped her hands in mock prayer. "Please. I'm dying of boredom here. I miss parties."

"Hey, we're not boring," James said.

"I've spent more time in a library in the past month than I have in the past year," she said. "No offense, it's not as exciting as a party." She turned around to look at Alex. "Come with me! You'll love it!"

"What about me makes you think that I'd enjoy a wild high school party?" she said dryly.

"Oh, you'd have fun, I'm sure of it," Emily said, waving her hand dismissively. "Please, Dave? Ask if I can be your plus one?"

"I'll see," Dave said. He pointed at her. "But you have to be nice to me. Like, _super_ nice. And if you get wasted, you can't puke in my car."

"I would never," she promised.

* * *

_**wednesday** _

There was something different about campus at nighttime. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was a palpable sense of _not quite right_ in the air.

During the day there was nothing to worry about. Green rolling lawns and manicured flower beds, the sun shining down on the belltower, flocks of students in navy blazers and khaki pants and red plaid skirts making their way across polished hardwood floors and broad staircases under high arching ceilings. The whole thing was completely instagrammable, ready to be splashed across a prospective student's brochure.

Nighttime was different. At night the trees seemed too tall and too dark against the sky; the buildings that were charmingly old-fashioned in daylight seemed ominous and half-haunted. The campus seemed too vast, a great expanse that stretched too far. The pathlights lining the cobblestones never offered enough light to make things seem safe. And the whole place was _definitely_ haunted.

Penelope trudged across campus, her phone clutched in her hand. The hike from the dining hall to the theater never seemed as long during the day. If only somebody could make teleportation real. Maybe if she waited long enough, Spencer would get old enough to invent it.

"What's Spencer going to invent?"

She screamed, chucking her phone at the source of the voice.

"Ow! Penelope, it's just me!"

"Oh my god, Hotch, I'm sorry," she said, scrambling to get her phone from where it landed in the dark grass. "I didn't know it was you, and it's so creepy out here, and i thought you were one of those scary security team guys-"

"Wait, wait, what?" he said. "Scary security team guys?"

She ran her hand over the phone screen, checking for cracks. "You know, the guys in the white polo shirts who glare at everybody," she said. She held up the phone close to her face, squinting in the dark. "They caught me taking a shortcut through that old amphitheater that Alex and James told us about. Gave me the heebie-jeebies."

"When did this happen?" he asked.

"Before the football game," she said. "On Friday. I thought they were going to write me up, or kill me on the spot. Honestly terrifying."

"Yeah, I know who you're talking about," Hotch said grimly. "It would probably be for the best that you stay away from them. I've heard things."

She tilted her head. "What kinds of things?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it, just make sure you follow the rules and you'll be fine," Hotch said. "Come on, we'd better go or we'll be late for theatre club."

She grinned. "You just want to see Haley Brooks," she teased.

"No, I don't. I'm really excited for whatever performance we're supposed to do tonight," he said, deadpan. Penelope hid a grin.

Once they were inside the theater, all of her misgivings about the dark and the shadows dissipated. Inside it was lively and bright, a cast recording playing loudly and blurring with the din of multiple conversations. A couple of upperclassmen were trying out tap steps on the stage; for a moment she thought about popping up there to join in, but she felt obligated to keep an eye on Hotch.

It was a little funny to see him like this. Most of the time he was like an adult- honestly, the adult of their group, the tallest out of all nine of them, his uniform always picture perfect and his gold RA pin polished, every hair in place, calm and well-spoken, his face screwed up in a perpetual serious expression burgeoning on a permanent frown. Outside of class, she remembered he was a teenager too, his hair falling over his forehead and his favorite hoodie soft around his shoulders.

She scanned the theater surreptitiously for Haley Brooks. Hotch could play sick and deny it all he wanted, he had it _bad_ for her. His calm cool collectedness fled every time he was around her; he seemed almost shy, stammering awkwardly when he tried to talk. It was absolutely adorable. And she could tell Haley thought it was adorable too. He really didn't need to worry about anything; it was painfully clear she liked him just as much as he liked her. She just showed it differently.

Finally she spotted Haley, standing on the floor in front of the stage talking in animated whispers to Harper Hillman. But before she could point her out to Hotch, Harper shut off the music, earning disgruntled yelps from the tappers trying to dance along. "Guys, shut up!" she shouted. "Everybody shut up. I've got announcements."

Penelope grabbed Hotch's arm and dragged him to a seat in the house. "What's happening?" he whispered.

"No idea," she whispered back.

Harper pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the stage, her dark hair tied up in a messy bun with a striped scrunchie. "Okay, you guys, so I know that we always do a straight play in the fall and a musical in the spring," she said. She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, shut up! This is important."

Penelope drummed her fingertips on her thighs. The theatre program at St. Thaddeus had been the final point to tip her over into picking the school over the other options; she'd been on pins and needles waiting for the show announcements.

"But it's an anniversary year for the NTA, and since everybody knows musicals always do better than straight plays," Harper continued. "Miss A told me she's going to change the shows for this year so we do two musicals instead. A more recent show for the fall, and a classic in the spring."

A frenzied buzz of excitement rose up from the gathered audience. Hotch wrinkled his nose. "Is this...a good thing?" he asked.

"A really good thing," Penelope said. "Plays are great, but Harper's right, musicals sell better. And they always have bigger casts."

"Guys, seriously, shut up!" Harper said, waving her hands. "Miss T is still working on show selections, but we'll have auditions in like, two or three weeks. So I'm changing what we're doing tonight. We're going to work on our books instead. Find a partner to help you go through your book and find a good cut. Remember, you can't go over thirty-two bars, so don't even think about it."

The house erupted into an enthusiastic roar. "What's a book?" Hotch asked blankly. "And was does thirty-two bars mean?"

Penelope was already pulling her plain black binder out of her backpack. "Oh, my sweet summer child," she said. "Every actor has an audition book."

"That's not enough explanation."

She sighed and patted his arm. "Okay, so, when you audition for a musical, you have to come in with something prepared to sing," she said. She flipped open to one of her favorite cuts to show him the page. "You can't sing the whole song, so you have to cut it down to a certain number of bars. The measures. Like this, see?"

"I guess," he said, squinting at the page.

"And if they like your singing, they keep you to dance, and if they like your dancing, they keep you to read," Penelope explained. "Haven't you done an audition before?"

"Nope," he said. His eyes widened. "Pen, do I...do I have to dance?"

"Only if they like your singing," she said.

"Oh, they won't like my singing," he reassured her. "Not that I have anything like this prepared."

Penelope paused. "Hold on just a second," she said, thrusting her binder in his hands. "I'll be right back. Don't even think about moving."

"Where are you-"

She darted into the aisle. Haley was leaning her arms on the stage, tapping the toe of one sneaker idly on the floor as she chatted with Harper. "Haley Brooks!" she said. "Do you have a partner yet?"

Haley straightened up. "No," she said. "But I was probably-"

"I have a hopeless case for you," Penelope said. "Hotch has absolutely no idea what he's doing. I just had to explain to him what thirty-two bars meant, the poor angel."

"Oh!" Haley said. She looked up at Harper, who raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, if you think he needs that much help…"

Penelope linked her arm through Haley's, beaming. All those childhood viewings of It Takes Two and The Parent Trap (despite her four stepbrothers' complaints) were about to pay off.

Hotch was flipping through Penelope's color coded tabs, frowning. The hood of his jacket had slipped around the side of his neck. "Pen, this still isn't making much sense," he said, but as he looked up his dark eyes widened.

"Aaron Hotchner, I've found someone to help you," she announced. "Haley, he's a hopeless case. He'll need a lot of one-on-one work, I'm pretty sure."

A pink blush had begun to spread across Hotch's sharp cheekbones. "I'm, uh...I don't think…" he stammered.

Haley smiled and sat down next to him. "Hopeless case, huh?" she said. She elbowed him lightly. "Don't worry, I've been doing this since I was little. I'll help you."

Penelope pried her binder out of Hotch's hands. "I'll leave you to it," she said, and she sashayed away. Successful matchmaking _and_ a Hamilton reference. She was so good at this.

* * *

_**thursday** _

The bell rang, but Spencer packed up his backpack slowly. He'd learned that if he let everyone else move faster, Neal and Dallas would leave the classroom first, eager to leave for football practice, and he wouldn't have to worry about them. And even though he never said it to JJ or Penelope, they never once left him behind.

He never walked anywhere alone anymore, but he'd stopped protesting. At first he'd bristled against it, sharp and irrational. His mother had always told him he was self-reliant. He didn't need anybody to keep an eye on him. He could take care of himself, like he always had.

But he had to admit that no one bothered him when he wasn't alone. People still looked at him sharply, eyeing him up and down, but if someone was with him, they kept their distance. So maybe it wasn't so bad if he had to be assigned one of his eight babysitters to keep him company on campus.

"So where are we going?" Penelope said as she pulled her hair free from the strap of her messenger bag. "Alex isn't working in the library today, is she?"

JJ pushed the classroom door open as they walked out into the hall. "I think Emily said they were going to the Honeybean after class," she said. "I wish I could go, but I have to go to stupid soccer practice."

"You could always quit," Penelope suggested. "You always say you're dreading it, and you always come back looking like you're ready to murder someone. And as your roommate, I take that personally."

"I can't quit soccer," JJ said. She made a face, pressing her hand to her stomach. "It'll be fine, I'll get over it."

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Kind of a weird stomachache."

"That could be caused by stress," he suggested. "Stomachaches, headaches, sleep disturbances…"

"I'm fine, Dr. Reid, it's just a stomachache," she laughed. "You guys go get coffee, and I'm going to go run around in the hot sun until I puke."

"Stay hydrated!" Spencer called; she waved at him over her shoulder as she walked away.

"Ugh, you couldn't pay me to play on an organized sports team," Penelope shuddered.

"I played T-ball when I was little," he said.

She nudged him playfully. "What do you mean 'when you were little,' half pint?" she teased.

He rolled his eyes. "I mean when I was four or five!" he said. "My dad made me do it, and he was the coach so there was no possible way to get out of it."

"You didn't like it at all?"

"Not a bit," he confirmed. "I was the slowest runner and I cried every time the ball came near me."

Penelope laughed. "Same, though," she said.

They made the trek across campus to the student union and he sighed in relief as they stepped out of the humidity and into the air conditioned building. "I'll be right back," he said. "I'm going to go check my mail really fast."

"Wait, I'll go with you," Penelope said.

"It'll take two seconds, I'll be right back," he promised.

"But Hotch said-"

He was almost on the stairs already. "Two seconds, I promise!" he called back.

There hadn't been a chance to check his mail in a few days. Not that he was expecting a lot of mail- just one specific letter. He hopped down the stairs two at a time, his backpack bouncing against his spine, running the risk of falling all the way to the bottom, already fumbling for his little keyring.

The old-fashioned post office boxes lined the wall in neat gold rows. Luckily his was on the bottom, easy to reach, so he knelt down and fitted the key into the lock.

For the first time, there was a letter waiting for him.

His heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, his fingers trembling. He'd been waiting for so long, and finally-

With a sharp shock he recognized his own handwriting. The scribbled address was half obscured with the red ink of an impersonal stamp.

_Return to Sender_

He stared at it blankly. It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. He had it right. He _knew_ he had it right. He'd checked it twice before dropping it in the mailbox.

_Diana Reid, ℅ Bennington Sanitarium_

But there it was, big and bold and scarlet red.

_Return to Sender_

He crumpled the letter and shoved it into the pocket of his uniform shorts. One on hand he wanted to throw it away, burn it, tear it to shreds. On the other, he wanted to scrutinize it, check it up and down, search for the error that he could fix so this wouldn't happen again, and he would send another letter, and his mother-

He dragged himself up the stairs, his short legs stretching with each step, his hand clinging to the railing as if it was the only way he'd possibly make it. His heart thunked against his ribs as slow as his steps.

The rest of the group had camped out at the table that was slowly becoming theirs; Hotch was working on homework but everyone else was chatting, cups and half-eaten snacks placed in front of them. He stood in the doorway for a moment, the letter in his pocket burning into his thigh.

Alex caught sight of him before anybody else and waved him over. "There you are," she said, smiling at him. "Penelope said you were coming, we got you a drink."

He forced himself to smile back. "Thanks," he said. He slid his backpack off his shoulders, careful of the broken zipper, and hung it on the back of the chair.

Alex's smile faded, and she tugged him closer, unnoticed under the lively conversation around them. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly. "You're white as a ghost."

He wanted to tell her. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want anyone else to know, or anyone to overhear. And besides, the words stuck in his throat like he was choking.

His gaze dropped to the neat pile of textbooks in front of her, dictionaries of different languages. He hadn't learned a lot yet, but he'd learned enough, so he signed to her instead, clumsy and hesitant.

 _Can I have a hug?_ he asked.

She scooted her chair back and pulled him into a tight hug, her hand pressed firmly to his back. He dropped his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. The tears burned, sharp and hot, but he wasn't going to cry, he wouldn't. He promised.

After a moment he tried to pull away, but instead Alex lifted him onto her lap. She slid his cup closer to him- he could tell by the scribble on the side of the cup that they'd gotten his new usual drink, a blended white mocha with extra mocha- and shifted him until he was comfortable, already chiming in to rejoin the conversation at the table. Hotch glanced up from his homework and frowned a little in concern, but he said nothing.

Spencer took a sip of his drink, the cold sugar settling on his tongue and calming the overwrought heat in his body. His breath burst out of him in a heavy, shaking sigh, rattling him enough to make his shoulders twitch. Alex gave him a little squeeze, reaching around him to pick up her iced chai latte. For once in his life he had nothing to say, nothing to add to the conversation, but his breathing stopped shuddering in his lungs and he drank his coffee slowly as his silence became more comfortable and the letter faded away to just a pile of folded papers that couldn't hurt him.

* * *

_**friday** _

Emily pushed the bathroom door open. She hadn't had time to do her makeup before breakfast that morning, and she'd be damned to finish out the day without it.

Of course Alex had shot her that know-it-all _I told you so_ look when she snoozed her alarm one too many times. Alex was always up on time, her uniform always tidy and her homework always always completed on her desk, ready to be packed up. Emily had learned, however, that if Alex started her day with her hair in a ponytail and no makeup, she definitely meant business. Luckily she'd started the day with curls and a ribbon (hunter green today) so things were relatively calm. But of course when they got to breakfast, everyone else had teased her about her bare face. Well, JJ had been pretty quiet, but even Spencer had attempted to crack a joke. At least she could tell it was a playful kind of teasing. They ribbed her because they liked her, which quite honestly was still a new experience.

Emily pulled her makeup bag out of her black Kate Spade bag and dropped it on the edge of the sink. She hated that stupid bag. She'd wanted one of those Kanken backpacks (maybe a red one, she liked red) but her mother had surprised her with the Kate Spade one the day she'd gotten her acceptance letter to St. Thaddeus. The Ambassador had been so goddamn proud of her that day. "This'll be a fresh start for you, Emmie," she'd said. "After everything that happened last year, this might be just what you need."

Emily rubbed foundation onto her face, a little too brusquely, as if she could push the memory away in the process. If her mother knew half the things that happened the year before, she wouldn't be getting a designer bag and her tuition paid to a pricey American boarding school.

Then again, her mother would have a conniption if she saw the state of her bag now. She'd covered it in enamel pins, impulse buys from online stores, almost obscuring the brand logo. More than a few St. Thaddeus girls had eyed her bag in envy, and it gave her the creeps.

She leaned forward on the sink, getting as close to the mirror as she could to paint eyeliner in delicate strokes along her lashline. It had taken quite a bit of practice to figure out how to wing her liner correctly, repeatedly drawing and scrubbing and trying again as she used up her mother's liquid liner without her knowledge. She had it down to a fine art for the most part, but-

The bell rang, startling her into jerking her hand and making a sharp black streak over her temple. "Shit!" she exclaimed. She hadn't even noticed the bathroom emptying out; there was one stall still closed, but other than that everybody else had been watching the time and made it to their next class.

She hadn't cut any classes yet since the start of the school year- honestly, a record for her. At this point she could afford to be late, or miss a class period. Besides, she was going to have to do some repair work to get her eyeliner balanced out again.

"Fuck," she said, her voice bouncing off the tile walls as she rubbed at the stray line. She switched to Italian as she kept cursing; it was somehow more satisfying.

"Emily?"

She jumped again. "What the fuck?" she said. She capped the liner and turned around. "Who's in here?"

"...JJ."

She frowned and dropped the eyeliner in her bag. "Are you okay?" she said.

There was a long pause. "Yeah," JJ said in a small, wobbly voice.

"You don't sound okay," Emily said. "Are you dying? I need to tell you know that if you're puking, I'm out. I don't do puke."

"No, it's not that, it's…"

She heard JJ sniffle. "Seriously, what's wrong?" she said. "Are you sick? I can-"

"I think my period started!"

Emily froze. "You think?" she said.

Another pause. "No, no...I'm pretty sure," JJ said.

"Do you need tampons or something?" Emily asked. "I've got-"

"It's my first one!"

Emily swallowed hard. This was not at all a situation she was equipped to handle. "Uh…" she said blankly. "Do you...do you want to go to the infirmary or something? Or do you want me to call Alex? I feel like Alex would be better-"

"No!" JJ wailed. "I don't want to go to the infirmary! And don't tell Alex, I don't want anyone else to know!"

"You know it's nothing to be embarrassed about," Emily said. "I don't know why people get so weirded out by periods, it's-"

"Emily, it's my first one, and I don't know what I'm doing, and I just...tell me what to do!" JJ burst out.

Emily pressed her fingertips to her temples. "Okay," she said. "Okay, uh...well, let's go back to Lincoln House, okay?"

"What about class?" JJ asked, her voice small again.

"Fuck class," Emily said. "Sometimes other things are more important." She dropped her makeup bag back in her bag and closed it up. "Now come on. You can't stay in here all day."

She waited, only somewhat patiently, for JJ to emerge. It took a while, but eventually she unlatched the door and stepped out of the stall, her face red and puffy from crying. "Hey, you look-" Emily started to say, but partially through her sentence she realized that maybe that mentioning that she'd been bawling her eyes out wouldn't be the best thing to do. "You look like you could to stand to miss class for a day."

JJ washed her hands slowly at the sink. "Am I going to get in trouble?" she asked.

"You'll be fine," Emily said. "Listen, I've learned that all you have to do is tell a male teacher that you're on your period and they freak out and don't ask any more questions." JJ half laughed at that. "Seriously, though, let's get out of here. School is the last place you want to be when you feel like shit."

They made it back to Lincoln House without being stopped; JJ unlocked her dorm room door and dropped her bag in the middle of the floor. "Make yourself at home," she said.

Emily looked around. "You know, I've wondered what it would be like to room with Penelope Garcia, and now that I'm seeing her side of the room I think I might have more questions," she said.

"Yeah, it's like living with a tech savvy Jojo Siwa," JJ sighed.

Emily put her hands on her hips. "Okay," she said. "So...do you have stuff?"

JJ raised an eyebrow. "What kind of stuff?" she said.

"You know," Emily said. "Stuff. Tampons, Midol…" Her voice trailed off. "Didn't your mom get you prepared for all of this?"

"Not really," JJ admitted. "My mom said I was probably going to be a late bloomer since my…" Her voice trailed off. "No, she didn't really tell me anything. Did your mom tell you?"

"No, my au pair," Emily said. "She was a hell of a lot more helpful than I'm going to be." She drummed her fingers on her hips. "Go take a shower. That'll help. I'm going to run back to my room real fast and get some shit. Can I take your keys?"

JJ nodded. Emily grabbed her own keys but left her bag on the floor.

This was not a situation she was equipped for. At all. She was bound to say the wrong thing, and that was the last thing JJ needed. She had never been responsible for another person before. Hell, she'd never had to be responsible for herself.

She dug through her cluttered side of the room, trying in vain to think back to what her au pair had said and done when she was eleven. That seemed like a lifetime ago. And a couple of countries ago. It was the Ukraine, maybe. Definitely before Italy, she knew that much.

She threw everything into a tote bag (Alex wouldn't mind) and slammed her dorm room door. Simultaneously she slammed into Alex.

"What the hell?"

"Sorry, I was in a hurry," Emily said, extending a hand to help her up. "I didn't see you. What are...what are you doing here?"

"It's lunch, and I forgot my book," Alex said. "Are you okay? You only have eyeliner on one eye."

"Well, shit," Emily said, rubbing at her face. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "Why do you have my bag?" she asked warily.

Emily bounced on the balls of her her feet. "Okay, you didn't hear this from me," she said. "She'll kill me. She doesn't want anybody else to know, but I'd feel better if I told somebody…"

"Emily," Alex interrupted. "What's going on? Who's going to kill you?"

"JJ got her first period," Emily said. "And she's freaking out, and I'm freaking out, and isn't this something that moms should handle?" She paused. "Oh my god, I should have had her call her mom."

"Okay, deep breaths, Em," Alex said. "It'll be fine, it's not the end of the world. Is she okay?"

"I think so," Emily said. "I mean, she's not dying or anything." She bit her lip. "Can you come with me? Just in case?"

"I thought you said she didn't want me to know," Alex said.

"Yes, but I need an adult."

Alex made a face. "I'm not an adult, Emily," she said. "You guys know that, right? I think everybody forgets that I'm seventeen."

"You're very mature for your age," Emily said. "Please, Alex? I'll pay for you at the Honeybean for the next month."

"Fine," Alex sighed. "But I'll have to go back to class when lunch is over."

"Deal."

It was more of a relief than she expected to have Alex there. No matter how Alex protested, she was definitely the mom friend out of their squad. JJ probably needed a mom friend for this situation. And Emily wasn't much a mom friend. More like a vodka aunt. Or a White Claw cousin.

Unlike Roosevelt House, with a bathroom shared between the occupants of two bedrooms, Lincoln House had communal bathrooms for every four dorm rooms. Emily could hear the shower running as she approached the bathroom closest to JJ's room.

"Hey, Jayje," she said as she peeked inside. It wasn't as nice as Roosevelt House either- three toilet stalls, three shower stalls, a bank of sinks. "I got you some stuff. I'm putting it next to your clothes."

"Thanks," JJ said, her voice almost drowned out by the sound of the shower.

"You feeling okay?"

"Well, I think my uterus is falling out, but other than that, I'm fine."

Emily grinned. "Yeah, that's a good description for it," she said. "I'm gonna go chill in your room, okay?"

"...yeah."

Alex had already made herself comfortable on Penelope's bed with a book in her hands. "How's she doing?" she asked.

"She says her uterus is falling out," Emily reported as she sat down on the edge of JJ's bed, and Alex cackled.

"Jesus, she's not wrong," she said. "I remember when this happened to me. It was the summer before I started here. Scared the absolute shit out of my brothers." She shifted around on the bed, trying to keep herself from falling off. "How does Pen sleep like this? This bed is eighty percent stuffed animals and pillows."

"Half of them end up on the floor," JJ said. She stood in the doorway in a ballet school tee shirt and leggings, her long blonde hair dark and wet against her shoulders. She bit her lip. "You told Alex?"

"I ran into her," Emily explained.

"Literally," Alex added. "She said you didn't want anybody to know, but she wanted me to come over anyway. And I promise I won't tell."

JJ's lower lip trembled. "Is it normal to feel this shitty?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Alex said. She set her book down. "You're going to feel shitty, but it'll get easier. And you can talk to any of us about what's going on. No judgement, I promise."

JJ nodded, and some of the tension seemed to relax from her shoulders. Emily rummaged in the borrowed tote bag. "I've got this," she said, brandishing the bottle of Midol. "It'll help, I swear."

JJ took it. "Thanks," she said quietly.

Alex rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a water bottle. "Stay hydrated," she said. "That'll help too." She frowned. "How did you get so many tangles in your hair? Give me your brush."

JJ handed her a sky blue brush and a brightly colored bottle of kid's spray detangler from her nightstand. "Sorry in advance, I'm tenderheaded," she warned Alex as she sat down on Penelope's bed.

Alex spritzed her wet hair, filling the air with the scent of artificial green apple. "I need to get some of this for Spencer," she said absently as she drew the brush through her long blonde hair. "His hair is always so tangled."

 _Mom friend_ , Emily mouthed at JJ, and she hid a laugh. "Nice shirt, by the way," she said aloud. "You take ballet?"

"I did," JJ said. "My whole life, it feels like."

"My mom put me in ballet when I was six," Emily said. "She made me take classes until I was thirteen."

"Did you like it?" JJ asked.

"Absolutely not," Emily said. "I mean, I could do it, but I've never been more miserable. She tried so hard to get me to take ballet here, but I told her there was no way that was going to happen."

JJ perked up. "They have ballet classes here?" she said.

"Uh-huh, and I've definitely taken enough ballet for a lifetime," she said. "I don't think I remember anything about it." She slid off JJ's bed and stood in a long-forgotten fifth position in the middle of the floor. "Let's see if I can still do this…"

She tried to turn, the thick soles of her Doc Martens catching in the carpet, and barely made one rotation around. JJ giggled. "What was that supposed to be?" she teased, sounding more like her normal self.

"A pirouette," Emily said. "Did I not do it?"

"That's not how you move your arms, you looked like an electrocuted pigeon."

"It's better than what I could have done," Alex said. "I wasn't meant for anything in the arts. I can't dance, and my dad says I sing like a cat getting its tail stepped on."

JJ laughed, her blue eyes brightening. "I can't sing much either," she said. "But dancing…" Her voice trailed off. "Thanks for staying with me."

"You're not mad that I told Alex?"

"No," JJ admitted. "I mean, she's the mom friend, after all."

"Why do people keep saying that?" Alex said. "How did I become the mom friend?"

"Well, it's not going to be me, Emily, or Penelope," JJ said.

"Definitely not me," Emily said. "Besides, you told me you spend all your summers babysitting. You've got the most experience raising children."

"I don't think that's how it works," Alex said. "And I'm not raising anybody in our group."

"No, that's definitely how it works."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a slow burn to start, but we're starting to hit some of the payoffs!! the next time I try to write a fic with nine main characters, tell me I'll be exhausted. 
> 
> also. who do you think will get together first, Hotch and Haley or James and Alex? (also. neither of them have good ship names.)
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments!!! They mean the world to me. I do my best to always reply, too, plus you can always come chat at my tumblr.
> 
> And a very special thank you to Faby for looking things over!!!
> 
> keep your eyes peeled!! I have a new AU fic that'll hopefully start posting soon!!


	12. why must we tell them why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily goes to a party. Hotch makes an unexpected confession. Alex looks for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for discussion of child abuse

_Why must we tell them why?_  
 _Some require an explanation f_ _or why we make the things we make_  
 _Why rules must break, and for whose sake  
_ _But why must we tell them why?_ _Why excuse each deviation?  
_ _Why must we serve them prix fixe art? O_ _r prove each part art a la carte_

_Why must we justify?_  
 _Let's deny their forms and fixtures, n_ _ot playing by their rules of thumb_  
 _Got to become a little numb  
_ _And beat that drum, m_ _ake something dumb  
_ _Make them see where we're coming from_

_Hold--  
(Think and you'll miss it)  
Still--  
(Think and you'll miss it)  
And focus  
(Think and you'll miss it, uh oh)_

\--"Why Must We Tell Them Why?" from 35MM: A Musical Exhibition

* * *

_**monday** _

Typically, the Honeybean was his favorite place to work after classes, if he didn't want to go straight home or he needed a change of pace from the library. It was peaceful, he could get coffee, and usually the ambiance was just what he needed to focus.

However, he was discovering it was a lot harder to get work done when other people decided he needed company whether he wanted it or not.

Dave glanced up to find a pair of round blue eyes staring at him over his Macbook screen. "Can I help you?" he inquired.

"You're so focused," Penelope said. She rested her chin on the edge of the screen. "I've been staring at you for like ten minutes and you haven't noticed."

"He gets like that when he's writing," Alex said, taking a sip of her iced tea.

Penelope brightened. "You're writing?" she said. "What are you writing? I want to read it!"

"Don't even try, Pen, he never lets anybody read his writing," James said. He leaned back on the couch, propping his heels up on the coffee table. "I've been trying since the ninth grade, and he won't let me see anything."

"Please, Dave?" Penelope wheedled, trying to lean over Dave's arm and going cross-eyed in her efforts to peek. "Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar on top."

He closed his laptop, making her squeak as she lost her balance. "Not a chance," he said.

Penelope stuck out her lower lip. "Can you at least tell me what it's about?" she asked.

"It's just a project for Strauss's creative writing class," he shrugged. "Not a big deal."

Alex dug her straw around in her cup. "Not like the novel you've been working on since you were twelve," he said.

Dave wadded up a napkin and threw it at her. "I regret ever telling you about that," he said.

She tossed it back. "I would have figured it out on my own, you checked out Stephen King's On Writing six times our first semester," she said.

Spencer looked up from his book. "Stephen King had such intense issues with alcohol and drugs that he doesn't remember writing Cujo," he said.

"Yeah?" Hotch said. "Have you read Cujo?"

Spencer blinked. "Of course not, it's scary," he said. He set his book down on the coffee table and slid down from the couch. "We get free refills on black coffee, right?"

"Oh, no, absolutely not," Hotch said, snagging him by the back of his cardigan.

"Why?" he protested.

"Because you'll be bouncing off the walls, my darling," Alex said.

"I'll get decaf," he offered. "Please?"

James pushed himself up from the couch. "I'll go with you and make sure you get decaf," he said. "Besides, you have more sugar and milk than coffee in there anyway. Come on, dude."

Penelope leaned on Dave's elbow. "If you don't want to tell me what you're writing about, I can find it out myself," she whispered.

He frowned. "How?"

She grinned, wiggling her fingers at him. "I have my ways," she said.

"But it's on my laptop," he objected. "And I'm not going to let you near my laptop, so there's not a chance."

"If you've backed it up on a cloud, I can track it down," she said. "I can track anything down." She winked at him, the holographic star barrettes in her blonde hair catching the light. "I have a certain knack for navigating the digital stratosphere."

Emily brushed croissant crumbs off her untucked shirt. "What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means that there was a reason I got sent to Lincoln House," Penelope said with a shrug. "You hack your middle school's mainframe just _one_ too many times and everybody freaks out."

"Yeah, that's kind of unethical," Hotch said, grabbing the cup closest to him and taking a sip. He choked. "Oh my god! What the fuck is in this?"

Penelope took it back. "Well, you grabbed my cup, and if you must know, it's…" She paused and looked at the scribbled sharpie label on the side. "Basically it's a strawberry milkshake, I guess."

"Strawberry milkshake from hell," Hotch mumbled under his breath, taking a long swig from his cold brew.

Dave opened his laptop, making sure to angle it away from Penelope. "I'll make you a deal," he said. "If I get an A on this assignment, I'll let you guys read it. Deal?"

"And if you don't get an A, I'll just find it myself," Penelope said. Dave glared at her. Penelope took an exaggerated noisy sip through her straw and batted her eyelashes at him.

* * *

_**tuesday** _

Derek threw the door to his room open and tossed his bag on the floor. "Hey, guess what?" he singsonged.

Spencer glanced up from his book. "Without any contextual clues, I have no idea," he said. "Something football related?"

"Yeah, kid, it's football related," Derek grinned. "We might not've won last week, but Coach Buford was so impressed with how I played that he's gonna sub me in for quarterback this Friday. I'm not starting, but that's fine, because who's heard of a sophomore starting quarterback?"

"I sure haven't heard of it," Spencer quipped. "That's pretty great, though." He scrunched his nose. "I think. You wanted quarterback, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Derek laughed. He ruffled the younger boy's hair. "It's good news for me, I swear." He kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the middle of the floor. "You're coming, right?"

"To what?"

Derek blinked, half smiling. "To my football game, duh," he said. He nudged his arm lightly. "I need my cheering section."

Spencer didn't smile, his fingers fidgeting with the pages of his book. "I don't...I don't think so," he said.

"Come on, you're not going to come see me play?" Derek said. It didn't exactly hurt his feelings, but at the same time, it did. "You had fun last time, right?"

"Last time I…" Spencer started to say, but his voice trailed off. He marked the page in his book. "It's just not my thing, I guess. I know you'll do really well, though. And I'm sure the others will want to come see you." He closed the book and slid off his bed. "I'm going to take a shower before Hotch comes in for bedchecks."

Derek frowned as Spencer slipped past him. It wasn't that he exactly expected Spencer to be excited about attending football games, the kid was clearly a lot more comfortable in a library than a sports field. But he'd kind of counted on his friends coming to see him play, and he'd just sort of assumed that his own roommate would be there.

He changed into his pajamas, pausing every so often to check his phone. Some of the other guys and a couple of cheerleaders were talking about going into town and seeing a movie over the weekend, and he didn't want to miss the plans.

Hotch knocked but didn't wait for an answer before sticking his head into the room. "Bedchecks," he said. "Where's Spencer?"

"Shower," Derek said. "Hey, so, uh...guess who's gonna be a sub quarterback next game?"

"I hope it's you," Hotch grinned. "Congrats."

"You guys are coming this weekend, right? Derek said. "Spencer made it sound like he's not coming."

"Yeah, he's probably not," Hotch said. "I think Penelope and I are coming for sure, I don't know about the others. Spencer's probably going to do something with the seniors."

"Why?" Derek asked.

Hotch's eyes narrowed. "Because he doesn't want to go," he said. "And I'm not going to make him."

Derek plunked down in his desk chair, his legs splayed out. "Why do you keep babying Spencer?" he complained. "He always gets special treatment. Everybody's always worried about Spencer."

"Because he _is_ a baby," Hotch said. "And after what happened to him, I don't blame him for not wanting to go to your game."

"Hotch, come on," Derek said. "I've heard the others guys talking about it. It was just a little prank, I don't think it was as bad as you thought. Definitely not bad enough to get anybody suspended from playing."

"You weren't there," Hotch said sharply. He glanced around the hall to see if anyone was walking by, then stepped into the room and closed the door. "They were hurting him. And he doesn't have anyone but us to keep an eye on him."

"Nothing bad is going to happen to him if he just comes to the game," Derek scoffed. "There's a million people there, no one's gonna even notice if he's there. Except for me. I'd like it if my friends came out here to support me."

"Your friends are coming out to support you," Hotch said. "But we're not going to force Spencer to go."

"See, you're taking his side again," Derek burst out. "You were my friend first, you know. Before any of these other kids showed up."

"You've got plenty of friends," Hotch said. "You've got the whole football team, don't you?" He tilted his head. "It's fine that you split your time between them and us. But you can't turn around and shit on me for making you my number one priority right now."

Derek picked up a pen and fiddled with it, spinning it between his fingers. "No, because Spencer's your number one priority," he said.

"Are you seriously jealous of him?" Hotch said, folding his arms over his chest. "He's a nine-year-old kid whose shoes are held together with duct tape. And you're a rising star on the St. Thaddeus Titans."

Derek shrugged, not making eye contact. "I'm not jealous," he said. "And you don't have to get all sarcastic on me. My new friends-"

"Your new friends think it's fun to throw a little kid in a closet," Hotch said flatly. "And I don't care about how popular you get, or if you're the quarterback, or if you singlehandedly lead the team to victory by the end of the season. At the end of the day, you're a Lincoln House kid. And they're always going to be a Lincoln House kid."

Derek threw the pen down on his desk. "That's bullshit, Hotch, they don't care," he said.

"Really?" Hotch said. "All right. Fine. You go hang out with your new friends, and the second something goes horribly wrong they're going to throw it back on you, because the Lincoln kid will always be the scapegoat." He sighed heavily, his mouth drooping, and as his shoulders sagged Derek could see the fifteen-year-old kid he roomed with last year, instead of this newly adult and overly responsible stranger. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to pick a fight. And...and I can see where you're coming from."

Derek raised and lowered one shoulder. "I guess it makes sense why you'd be so protective of Spencer," he said begrudgingly. "Really, though, I think it's all blown over. They might still be a little pissed that Lamb and Willis got suspended, but once we win the game this weekend everybody will forget about it."

"I hope so," Hotch said.

The door tapped open and Spencer peeked in from under Hotch's arm. "Sorry I was late for bedchecks," he said.

"It's okay," Hotch said. "You doing all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Spencer said, climbing onto his bed.

"I'll see you guys in the morning then," Hotch said. "Get some sleep, both of you."

He left, closing the door behind him. Derek slid down farther in his chair. He watched Spencer out of the corner of his eye; Spencer pushed his wet hair out of his face as he picked up his book again.

Derek scratched the back of his neck. "Whatcha reading?" he asked.

Spencer held it up. "Alex is letting me borrow one of her books on Russian grammar," he said.

"Seriously?" Derek laughed. Spencer nodded. "That's, uh. Pretty intense. Are you learning Russian now? I thought she was teaching you ASL, and Emily and Dave were teaching you Italian."

"Oh, they are," Spencer said.

Derek watched him turn pages. "Hey," he said, and Spencer looked up. "I didn't mean to get so defensive about you coming to my game. If you don't want to go, it's cool. I get it."

Spencer bit his lip. "It really isn't a personal thing," he said. "I promise, it's not. I just…" He paused. "You know that was the first football game I've ever been to?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't get invited places very often," he said. He pressed his mouth together in a rueful little smile. "That part was pretty nice."

Derek cleared his throat. "Listen, Spencer," he said. "I know...my friends were kind of shitty. But I promise they're not that bad." He nudged Spencer lightly. "I'll put in a good word for you, see if I can make sure they leave alone. That's how it works, you know?

"That's how it works?" Spencer repeated.

"Yeah, man," Derek said. "You get a popular kid on your side, everything works out. Hell, all it takes is Alexa Lisbon saying she approves of somebody, they're in for sure."

Spencer pushed his damp hair away from his face. "Thanks for the offer, I suppose," he said. He closed his book. "I'm going to go to sleep, I think."

"Yeah, sure," Derek said. "G'night, kid."

He didn't think much of their conversation after that, and by the time he went to bed himself he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Normally he never woke up in the middle of the night, but he opened his eyes around two in the morning and rolled over to see Spencer curled up in a tight little ball on his bed, his blanket puddled on the floor. He got up quietly and set it back into place, draping it over the kid. Spencer didn't wake, but he seemed to relax back into his borrowed pillow, and Derek went back to bed and slept until his alarm rang.

* * *

_**wednesday** _

Alex sank down in her favorite armchair with a heavy groan, dangling her legs over the side. "You doing okay, Miller?" Dave inquired.

"I can always tell when someone's assigned a research paper, let's just leave it at that," she sighed. "Just give me a second."

Emily checked her phone. "Well, you only have thirty minutes left," she said. "And in the meantime, you can help me convince Dave that I will be an excellent wingman for him at the public school party this weekend."

"Oh, no, I don't think he's going to need any help," Alex said. "He's left a steady stream of broken hearts behind him every school year."

"The Taylor Swift of St. Thaddeus?" Emily teased.

"Hey, she has dated a reasonable amount of people, and if she was a guy nobody would question it," Penelope said, pointing her fluffy-topped pen at Emily.

"And I don't write songs about them," Dave added.

Emily shrugged. "Fair point."

"But I do write them into my novels sometimes," he admitted.

Spencer propped himself up on his elbows; he was lying on his stomach with an open book in front of him. "Who's Taylor Swift?" he asked. "Is she in your grade?"

"Oh, my sweet summer child, we need to educate you," Penelope said.

Spencer wrinkled his nose. "So she's not a friend of yours?"

Penelope rolled off the couch to join him on the floor, already pulling out her phone. "No, no, okay, so Taylor Alison Swift-"

"Just make sure you use headphones or something," Alex said. "If I don't let Anderson listen to his music without headphones, I can't let you guys get away with it either." She pushed herself out of her armchair. "I should probably go back to shelving. Anybody want to come help me?"

Spencer started to get up but Penelope pulled him back down. "You have to listen to this," she insisted.

Alex bit back a laugh and went back to the circulation desk. A student was waiting for her with a stack of books. "Sorry," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You ready to check out?"

"Uh-huh," he said, sliding his ID and the books towards her.

She scanned them one by one. "Are you working on a research paper too?" she asked, making polite small talk.

"No, just fascinated by T.S Eliot's work."

She paused. "Really," she said. She glanced at the spines- a collected works, two biographies, a couple of poetry anthologies. "Usually I don't see any poetry books checked out unless someone's working on a project."

"No, I genuinely enjoy it," he said. "Are you familiar with Eliot's work?"

"Yeah, I am," she said. She grinned. "I had to write a paper about him freshman year. If you find any blue sticky notes in those biographies, they're probably leftover from me."

He laughed. "You have a system, I like it," he said. "When I-"

Spencer peeked over the edge of the desk. "Hey, Alex, can I go in the office real quick?" he said. She raised an eyebrow. "For...contraband."

"We're going to get dinner right after this," she warned. He drummed his fingers on the desktop, his hazel eyes wide and hopeful. "Go ahead. Not too much, though."

"Thank you!" he said, zipping past her into the office.

"Contraband?" the boy at the desk inquired.

Alex picked up the next book. "My candy drawer," she explained.

"That makes sense," he said. "Cute kid. Is he your little brother?"

"No, a ninth grader," Alex said. She slid the books back towards him over the counter, the ID placed on top. "All right, you're all set. You have them for two weeks, but if you want to renew you can do it on the school website or stop by the library again."

He smiled at her, his blue eyes bright. "I'll probably stop by the library again," he said as he scooped the books up. "Thanks a lot."

He left, and she glanced down at her phone, sighing in relief when she saw the time. "Five minutes left," she mumbled. "Oh, I definitely shouldn't have let Spencer have any candy."

She went back into the office just in time to catch Spencer standing at the phone, the receiver in hand. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He jumped like he'd been electrocuted, the receiver clattering back into place. "I'm sorry!" he said. "I just...I needed to use the phone-"

"No, that's fine, darling," she said. "You could have used my phone if you wanted, it's fine. You can always ask."

"It's okay, I just…" he said. "Never mind."

He tried to slip past her. "Did you get any candy?" she asked.

"No," he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "You were right, I didn't need to eat anything so close to dinner."

"Okay," she said. "Tell the others I'll lock up in a second."

He nodded and ran out of the office, the door sliding closed behind him. Alex frowned. She wasn't sure what to make of that. Maybe she should have stopped him, asked more questions.

Instead she picked up the phone and held it to her ear as she hit the redial button. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she listened to it ring half a dozen times, almost long enough to wonder if she should hang up.

" _Thank you for calling the offices of Kirschenbaum, Wieder, and Moore. Unfortunately, no one is available to answer your call. Please leave your name and number at the tone, and you will receive a call back at the earliest convenience."_

She hung up the phone quickly before the voicemail could beep. Who on earth was Spencer trying to call? It sounded like a law firm.

Was he in some kind of trouble? What kind of trouble could a nine-year-old boy get into that would possibly require a lawyer?

She closed up the office and turned off the lights, locking the door behind her. Penelope was waiting at the circulation desk. "Is it too late to check anything out?" she asked.

"Nope, you'll be the last for the day," Alex said, taking Penelope's ID and the book. "Ah, The Scorpio Races. Excellent choice. I should be getting All the Crooked Saints in soon, I'll let you know as soon as it comes in."

"You're an angel, Alexandra Miller," Penelope said.

Alex slid the book under the scanner. "Hey," she said slowly. "The other day you said that you're really good at tracking things down. Is that Penelope Garcia hyperbole, or-"

"No, no, it's real," she said. "My special skill. I have ethical and unethical methods, but either way I can work magic."

"Can you look up some things for me?" Alex said.

Penelope bounced up on her toes; the flower clips in her hair bounced too. "Absolutely!" she said. "What can I do for you?"

Alex picked up a scrap piece of paper from the desk and wrote down the names she'd heard. "I need you do to some research on this law firm," she said. "I can't really explain it at the moment, but I need you to find out what you can."

"Yes, ma'am," Penelope said, taking the paper reverently.

"Try to stick to the ethical searches, though," Alex said. "I don't want to get you in trouble with this." She handed her the book. "And don't talk to the others about this."

"Ooh, our first friendship secret!" Penelope said. "You can trust me, I promise."

She ran off to join the others in the hall. Alex checked the library for stragglers before shutting down the computers and turning off the lights. "All right, I'm ready," she said as she locked the door. "Dave, are you staying to eat dinner with us?"

"I wasn't, but Penelope says they're going to have corn nuggets tonight, so I'm legally obligated to stay," he joked.

Alex reached for Spencer's hand. He looked up at her, his eyes big, and when she squeezed gently he smiled at her. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving," she said. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

_**thursday** _

Hotch slung his backpack over his shoulder as the bell rang, already pulling his phone out of his pocket to text the group chat- _who's got the kid?_

He was almost to his next class when he got a video from Emily. It was slightly blurry, but he could see the top of Spencer's head as they walked through the halls. "Spencer, tell Hotch to stop worrying," she said, her voice loud from behind the phone.

Spencer squinted up at the camera. "Hotch, stop worrying," he piped up.

Hotch grinned. They could tease him as much as they wanted, it was reassuring to know that somebody was with the kid. Even Derek had been going out of his way to make sure that Spencer wasn't left alone, despite bowing out of dinners and hangouts to spend time with his new friends.

It wasn't that he was mad about Derek making new friends, or enjoying his newfound popularity- he was glad he'd finally made the varsity team, it was all he wanted last year. But it set his teeth on edge, knowing that eventually the other shoe was going to drop, and knowing what they were willing to do to a ten-year-old kid.

He collided sharply with someone in the hall and stumbled back, gripping tight to his phone to make sure he didn't drop it. "Sorry," he said quickly.

"Watch where you're going, Lincoln House," the other kid shot back. Hotch didn't recognize him, but he recognized the green Kennedy House emblem on his sweater, and he gritted his teeth.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, a little more tersely.

He started to sidestep the Kennedy sweater. "Hey, wait," he said. "You're the one who tattled on Willis and Lamb, aren't you?"

Hotch dropped his phone in his pocket. "I didn't tattle," he said. "I turned them in for assaulting a ten-year-old."

"They were just teasing him," Kennedy Sweater said, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, don't you understand a joke?" Hotch moved to push past him, but Kennedy Sweater caught him by the shoulder and pushed him back. "I asked you a question, Lincoln."

"Don't touch me," Hotch shot back, his hands unconsciously clenching into fists at his sides.

"Answer the question, then," he said.

"I don't have to answer you."

Kennedy Sweater grinned wolfishly at him. "Maybe I'll go see if your little kid thinks I'm funny," he said.

His nails dug into his palms. "Don't go near him," he said through his teeth.

"Yeah?" Kennedy Sweater said, shoving his shoulder. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Don't touch me."

"Oh, yeah?" Kennedy Sweater jeered, pushing him again. "What are you gonna do about it? Run and tattle again?"

Without thinking he drew his arm back and punched him across the jaw.

He stumbled back, his knuckles smarting. "I'm sorry," he said immediately, raising his hands in surrender. "It didn't mean-"

Kennedy Sweater lunged at him. Hotch put up his arms to block, but he wasn't quite fast enough. He swung out, his fist connecting with a crack.

Two years of hard work on himself and his reputation, down the drain.

It could have been thirty seconds or half an hour, he wasn't sure, but his vision blurred and sound blended in his ears, and suddenly someone was pulling him backwards by his blazer.

"Guys, cut it out, before a teacher sees!" somebody said, and he fell back, his heart beating wildly in his throat, and he leaned against the wall as the roar of the hallway shifted back into loud conversations and his vision stopped showing him double.

A slim hand gripped his wrist tightly. "Come on, we're getting out of here."

He stumbled blindly, adrenaline pumping in his veins, as the hand moved to grip IYhis, fingers interlocking, and he was dragged down the hallway. The bathroom lights were bright and jarring and he winced. He must've gotten at least one bad hit.

A slender figure in a navy sweater and a red plaid skirt busied herself at the sink. The pink sinks. He rubbed his eyes and immediately regretted it as his knuckles popped. "Am I in the girls' bathroom?" he mumbled.

"You sure are."

He jumped in surprise as Haley turned around took his hand in her slender ones. "Haley, how...what's going on?" he sputtered.

"You picked a fight with the dumbest junior in Kennedy House," she said, pressing a damp paper towel at his bleeding hand.

"I didn't pick a fight, he started it," Hotch protested. He want to pull his hand away, but he couldn't move.

"You sure finished it," she said. She eyed his split knuckles critically.

"Haley, this isn't me," he said. "I swear. I mean...I used to get in fights a lot, when I was a freshman, but I was dealing with a lot of shit back then. I'm not the kind of guy who just…"

His voice trailed off. "I know," she said gently. "I caught the tail end of it. You were defending that little Reid boy. And don't worry, nobody likes that Kennedy kid much." She smiled up at him. "I might've punched him myself if he talked to me like that."

"I shouldn't have done anything," he said.

"No, something needed to be done," Haley said. She took a step back and looked him up and down. "I think you won, but he still got in some good hits."

The bell rang as Haley pulled more paper towels from the dispenser and ran them under the faucet. "You should go, you'll get in trouble," he said.

"Oh, it's fine," she said. "All I have to do is say that I needed to do something for cheer, and they don't mark me tardy. Now hold still. And lean your head down a little, you're so tall."

He held his breath as she dabbed at his cheekbone, trying to stare at the wall behind her. She was so close he could see a stray fleck of mascara on her cheek. "It's not that bad," he said. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, it is, and stop fussing, I don't mind," she said. "Your lip is split pretty bad. And I bet you'll have a black eye by tomorrow."

He tried to squirm away. "Really, Haley, it's fine," he said. "It's not the first time somebody's smacked me around to make themselves feel better."

He froze.

That wasn't what he meant to say. Not at all.

Haley took a step back. "What do you mean?" she said.

"Nothing," he said quickly, his voice rising. "It's- nothing, forget I said anything. I'm just going to go-"

She caught him by the arm. "Aaron," she said. "What do you mean?" He could have gotten out of her grip, but for some reason he didn't pull away. "You can't just say something like that and walk out."

He stared at the far wall, keenly away of Haley's slender fingers holding onto his sleeve, and he waited until he was sure his voice was going to stay steady. "My dad," he said.

"Your dad?" she echoed.

"He, uh...had a lot of issues," Hotch said. "He kind of took them out on me."

"He hits you?" Haley breathed.

He shrugged. "Better me than my little brother," he said.

He turned around, ready to offer her a reassuring smile, but she stared up at him in shock. "Aaron, I'm so sorry," she said. "Are...are you okay? Have you talked to someone?"

"No, no, Haley, it's okay," he said quickly. "He, uh...he died. Lung cancer. When I was thirteen."

Her eyes softened. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I had no idea."

"Nobody does," he confessed, one side of his mouth tugging up into a rueful smile.

To his surprise, Haley stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

He had pictured what might happen if he told somebody. He hadn't expected this.

She hugged him, rising up on her toes so she could rest her chin on his shoulder. He didn't think someone so small could possibly grip so tight. But after a moment he allowed himself to relax and hugged her back, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

When he started to lean back she let go, her hands trailing along his arms and lingering against his palms. "Let's get the rest of that blood off you, tiger," she said. "And maybe get some ice for that eye."

"Okay," he whispered. "Thanks, Haley."

She smiled. "Any time," she said. "But maybe don't make it a habit of getting clocked in the face, okay?"

* * *

_**friday** _

"You're sure we won't get in trouble?" Penelope asked again.

"We'll be fine," James reassured her.

Derek slung his arm around her shoulders. "Besides, we won't be there for too long," he said. "I've got a game to get to, and you promised you'd be there."

"That's true," she admitted.

James led the way down the path through the overgrown grass. "We showed Emily the creek during her first week here, I can't believe we haven't brought the rest of y'all down here yet," he said.

"How far away is this place?" JJ asked. "We've been walking forever."

"Almost there," he promised.

It had been his idea to go to the creek. Everyone had just seemed so...out of sorts. Alex had the afternoon off from the library, and the coffee shop was crowded, and impulsively he'd told everybody to go change and they could go down to the creek and just chill for a while. He'd half expected them to say no, but they'd all agreed. Well, except Dave, who claimed he'd had "major breakthrough" on his story for Strauss's class.

The water level was a little low, but then again it had been blistering hot day after day, way too hot for late summer. It was cooler in the shade of the oak trees; the air smelled sharp and damp. "Oh, it's nice out here," Penelope exclaimed.

Emily was already pulling at the laces of her Doc Martens. "Learn from me, don't get your shoes anywhere near the water," she said.

"All right, Morticia Addams," JJ said, kicking off her sneakers.

"Hey, I'll have you know that that's a compliment," Emily said. "Morticia Addams is a queen and you know it."

"She's not wrong," Alex said. She and Emily looked like night and day next to each other- one in a black vintage band tee shirt and ripped up acid wash jeans, the other in white shorts and a lace-trimmed tank top. "Watch the bank, it's pretty slippery."

Derek threw himself headlong into the water, splashing up to his hips and making Penelope shriek. "Jesus, Derek, be careful!" Hotch said.

"It's fine, guys, stop freaking out!" he said. JJ slid down quickly to join him, the hem of her dress quickly catching the water. "That means you too, pretty boy, get down here."

Spencer set his battered sneakers down and inched towards the bank. One of the girls had already tied his hair into a small knot at the crown of his head and his faded shirt was at least two sizes too big for him. "Nobody drink the water," he warned. "Five million people die every year from illnesses contracted from rivers and streams."

"No one's going to drink the water," Alex reassured him as she waded into the creek. "Come on, you literally sound like the elephant in Tarzan."

"The elephant in Tarzan doesn't talk."

"Not the Johnny Weissmuller films, the Disney one," Alex said. She held out her hand. "You'll be fine, come on."

James sat down in the grass, stretching out his legs. Hotch sank down beside him and ran his hand through his hair. "Oh my god, it's been a shitty week," he sighed.

"Yeah?" James said, trying to keep his voice casual. He would have guessed Hotch was having a bad time, judging by his swollen black eye and his split lip. So far, though, no one had really addressed it, and Hotch hadn't volunteered any information.

Hotch leaned back on his elbows. "Yeah, I had a huge math test today, and I've been dreading it," he said.

"Yeah, math sucks," James offered.

Penelope suddenly shrieked. "Something touched me!" she screamed. "Something touched my ankle!"

"Probably a crawdad," James called back.

"They're also called crayfish," Spencer offered.

"They're not gonna hurt you, baby girl," Derek said. "Maybe just a little pinch."

"A pinch is still a pinch, and I don't want it!" Penelope said, scrambling for the bank.

JJ peered into the water, then reached in swiftly. "I got one!" she said, cupping the crawdad in her hands. "Penny, do you want a closer look?"

"No!"

"The crayfish is the state crusteacean of Louisiana," Spencer said. "They're in the _cambaridae_ family and they're the….no, JJ, noooo, I don't wanna touch it!"

JJ chased Spencer with the crawdad in her hands and he hid behind Alex, clinging to the hem of her shirt. "Derek's right, Spencer, it's not going to hurt you," Alex laughed.

"They're so cute!" JJ said. "I'll catch you one."

Spencer clung tighter to Alex and she picked him up. "You're fine, they're not poisonous," she reassured him.

"I know that, but I don't _like_ them," he protested.

"Can I keep them in my room, if I get them a little tank?" JJ asked.

"No way!" Hotch called. "Tara will not be happy about that."

James laughed. "What would the baby squad do without you?" he teased.

Hotch laid back into the grass. "Baby squad, huh?" he said. "Yeah, that seems right. What are the rest of us?"

"Big kid squad."

"That also sounds right," Hotch said. "Where do Emily and Derek fall?"

"Emily is a big kid, Derek is a baby."

"I'll allow that," Hotch said. He sighed heavily. "At least if I have to be the dad friend, there's a mom friend."

James frowned. "Who's that?"

"Alex," Hotch said. He nodded towards the creek; Spencer was still clinging to Alex as JJ held out a crawdad in each palm. "Has she always been good with kids?"

James shrugged. "She babysits all summer to make money for school," he said. "But she's just like that, you know? She's the kindest person I know, and she doesn't take any shit."

"Is that why you have a crush on her?"

James choked. "How...I don't know…" he stammered. "Is it that obvious?"

"Painfully," Hotch said.

James pulled on a long blade of grass. "Yeah," he sighed.

Hotch's mouth tugged up in a half smile, the bruising on his lower lip showing darker. "She's pretty great," he said. "It's funny, I saw her in the library every time I went there over the past two years, and I never knew her name."

"And now you're raising Spencer together," James joked.

"I honestly didn't know how that happened," Hotch said. He laid back in the tall grass. "Spencer's just a little bit older than my brother. I can't imagine Sean in his shoes."

"Yeah, he's dealing with a lot for such a little kid, huh?" James said. He straightened up. "Hey, Derek, you probably don't want to mess with that fence."

"Why?" he shouted back.

"It's an electric fence!"

"See, this is why he's on the baby squad," Hotch mumbled to himself.

Spencer had slid back into the water and was carefully balancing on a smooth flat rock. "I don't think it's activated," he said.

Derek picked up a long stick and edged closer. "Dude, I think that's a bad idea," Emily said. "Maybe don't-"

He poked the fence, and nothing happened. "Yeah, it's fine!" he said. "You think we should try to cross? I've heard there's all sorts of crazy things out in the woods."

"That's a bad idea," James said. "If the security team doesn't catch you, the groundskeeper will."

"The groundskeeper?" Penelope said. "Oh, great, another adult to be afraid of out here.”

"He's not bad, he's just...kind of strange," Alex said. "You'll be fine as long as you don't walk through his flowerbeds or break tree branches." She shot Derek a knowing glance. "Or go out in the woods."

"Okay, okay, I get it, I get it," he said, grinning. "Hey, what time is it?"

James wrestled his phone out of his pocket. "Almost five," he said.

"Oh, shit!" Derek exclaimed. "I gotta get to the field by six. Let's go, baby girl!"

"Thank goodness," Penelope said. "I've had more than enough nature today, thank you very much."

* * *

_**saturday** _

"You're going to clean all of this up when you get back, right?" Alex asked.

"Yes! Absolutely! I promise!" Emily said, tearing through her dresser drawers. Clothes were piled up on the bed, three different pairs of shoes were tossed across the floor, and her makeup collection might never recover. "I'm just in a major hurry, Dave is threatening to leave without me."

Alex sat up, moving her pillows around. Her long hair had been braided and pinned neatly around her head, but a few wisps had escaped around her ears. "What are you looking for?" she asked.

"I had this lipstick!" Emily exclaimed.

"You have two in your hands."

"No, not these," she said. "I wanted something dark, but also kind of...red?"

"Burgundy?" Alex supplied. "I think you mean burgundy."

"Maybe? I don't know!" Emily said as she kept digging around through her possessions. She could picture the little black tube perfectly, on her dresser back home in Italy...but maybe that's where it still was.

Alex slipped off her bed and rummaged through her makeup organizer. "Stop throwing things around, come here," she said. "I think this is what you're looking for."

She held out the little black tube; Emily uncapped it eagerly. "It is!" she said. "Holy fuck, Miller, you're an angel." She leaned close to the mirror and applied it carefully. "I owe you one."

"Just clean up the disaster you're leaving behind, and we'll call it even," Alex said.

Emily capped the lipstick and handed it back. "You sure you don't want to come with me?" she asked.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm in my pajamas, I have a new book, and as soon as you leave I'm going to play all the sad music you don't like on my record player," Alex said. "You have fun. Make good choices. Don't annoy Dave too much, he can be a pill when he's driving."

Emily kissed her on the cheek with a loud smack, leaving a perfect lip print behind. Alex rolled her eyes. "I'll be good, Mom, don't worry," she teased. "Enjoy listening to Death Cab for Cutie without me."

"It's Hozier this time," Alex said. "Go on, don't keep Dave waiting."

She ran out of Roosevelt House, her shoes clumping on the stairs. It was a bit of a trek to the parking lot in front of the main building, but she found Dave easily enough. "It's about time, Prentiss," he said.

"Sorry, lipstick emergency," she said, throwing herself into the passenger seat. "Floor it, Rossi!"

They chatted aimlessly on the car ride, but the longer he drove, the more anxious she started to get. Maybe not anxious. Apprehensive? She was apprehensive. Parties in a small town in Tennessee were bound to be different from parties in Rome. She just wasn't sure what the differences might be.

Dave pulled his car into a long winding driveway. Emily squinted in the darkness. "Is this...is this party in a barn?" she said.

"Yeah, welcome to the boonies," Dave said. He opened his door and frowned at the ground. "Shit. I hope it doesn't rain, I'm going to get mud on my tires."

"I think you'll live," Emily said.

She had already passed second-guessing her outfit. Triple-guessing? Quadruple-guessing? Whatever level she reached, she was nervous.

Maybe it wasn't the outfit, though, or the dust from the barnyard clinging to her ripped tights and her skirt. In Italy, she never went to parties alone. She was always there with Matthew and John. Everyone always knew that if one was there, the other two were never far behind.

She pushed the thought away as she walked into the barn with Dave. Inside was surprisingly crowded, loud music pulsing over speakers and string lights casting shadows. Dave checked his phone. "I'm gonna go find Hayden," he said. "You wanna come meet her?"

"I'm good for right now," she said. "You go have fun."

A bunch of public school kids clustered around a mismatched collection of coolers; she slipped in between them and grabbed the first bottle she could find. Some kind of beer, she guessed. She wasn't much of a beer person, but she could give it a go, just for the moment.

The cap wouldn't snap off. "Fuck," she said aloud, struggling to pull it off. This was a sign. She shouldn't have come here. She was an idiot in a dress that would have been cool in Italy but looked stupid and lame around all these Tennessee kids, and she couldn't get the top off a beer.

"It's not a screw top."

She looked up, the cold bottle nearly slipping from her grip. "What?" she said.

A boy in a Crievefield High shirt stood in front of her, a smile tugging at his mouth. "It's not a screw top," he said, gesturing towards her bottle as something glinted in his hand. "You need some help?"

"Please," she said, holding it out. He popped the top off easily, letting it fall in the sawdust ground, and handed it back. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said. She took a swig, wincing slightly at the taste, but it was cold and familiar all the same. "Nice dress. But you're not from Crievefield, are you?"

She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to dab away the beer clinging to her lips. "Guilty as charged," she said. "St. Thaddeus. My friend got invited and he let me tag along."

He laughed. She couldn't see him very clearly in the dim lights, but he seemed nice enough. "Which house?" he asked.

"Roosevelt," she said. He nodded in approval and she switched her beer to her left hand so she could hold out her right. "I'm Emily, by the way."

He shook her hand, his thumb brushing the back of her thumb. "Nice to meet you, Emily," he said. "I'm Ian. Ian Doyle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS A LOT OF STUFF HAPPENED!!
> 
> I'm woefully behind on answering comments, but I promise I'll answer all of them! And I love chatting about this fic and making new friends, so come chat with me either here or tumblr!
> 
> Special thanks to Faby and Maeve for their help!!


	13. have faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer finally gets some new things.

_Have faith in the good, let your love shine through_   
_I'm coming too, let your love shine through_   
_Have faith in the good, go find your truth_   
_Make your move and let your love shine through_   
_Have faith in the good, no we won't lose_   
_There's too much proof, we'll never lose_   
_Have faith in the good_

\--"Have Faith" by Mt. Joy

* * *

Emily closed the door as quietly as she could behind her, wincing when it squeaked. Despite her best efforts, Alex rolled over, pulling at her blankets. "Emily?" she croaked.

"Yeah, it's just me, go back to sleep," she whispered, tugging at her boots.

Alex fumbled for her phone. "What time is it?"

"Don't worry about it."

"It's past three," Alex said. Her phone slipped from her hands and hit her in the forehead. "Ow."

Emily bit back a grin and sat down on the edge of her bed. "It's Sunday, I'll sleep in tomorrow and it'll be fine," she said.

Alex rubbed her eyes. Her hair had slipped free of her braids at some point and hung around her face. "Did you have fun?" she yawned. She patted the spot beside her. "C'mere, tell me about it."

"Yeah, I had fun," Emily said. She crawled up to sit beside Alex, the adrenaline and alcohol slowly wearing off and tiring her out. "I met a boy."

"Mm-hm?" Alex said, scooting over to make room. "Is he cute?"

"Yeah, I guess," Emily said. "He gave me his number."

Alex smiled. "Good for you," she said. She frowned. "What's that...is that our fire alarm?"

"No, not ours," Emily reassured her. "Somewhere else on campus, I think." She shifted around to lie down beside Alex. "I hope it's not Lincoln House."

Alex nudged her. "Don't you wanna sleep in your own bed?" she said.

"No," Emily said. "Why does Spencer get all the cuddles? I'm still mildly drunk, and I'd like to be cuddled."

Alex half laughed and tilted her head against Emily's shoulder. "You smell like...sweat and hand sanitizer," she said.

"Cheap tequila," Emily corrected. She made herself comfortable, lying on her back with her hands on her stomach, and smirked up at the ceiling. "And I'll have you know I only _threatened_ to puke in Rossi's car on the way home. I made it all the way back here, and then I puked in the bushes."

Alex snorted. "He must've been pissed," she said sleepily.

"Enraged. He might not let me ride in his car again," Emily said. "Is he always that uptight about his car?"

Alex didn't answer, and when she squinted at her in the darkness, Emily could tell she was almost asleep. "Yeah, you're definitely not a party girl, are you?" she said. "All that Hozier wore you out, huh?"

"I dunno," Alex yawned. She rolled over onto her side. "G'night, Emily."

"Goodnight," Emily said.

It took Alex a second to doze off, but Emily fell asleep slowly, listening to the faint drone of the fire alarm buzzing in the distance, almost completely drowned out by the sound of Alex's white noise app. Her thoughts began to filter out one by one, and her last thought before she fell asleep was _I wonder if this is what it's like to have a best friend._

* * *

Derek pulled his pillow over his head. "Whose alarm is going off?" he whined. "It's still dark out. And it's so _loud_."

"That's because it's the fire alarm," Spencer said.

He sat up, dropping the pillow on the floor. "Shit," he said. He rolled out of bed, pushing his covers back, and fumbled for his shoes and a jacket to pull on over his pajamas. "Come on, pretty boy, let's go."

He dug his heel around in his shoe as he walked down the hall and joined the collection of sleepy students heading down the stairs. Now was a really bad time to live on the seventh floor; he had to elbow a couple people to make his way out.

It was colder than he expected outside- low seventies, maybe upper sixties- and drizzling lightly; he pulled his hood over his head as he crossed to the designated meeting spot in the corner of the courtyard. Hotch was already there, frowning as he crossed names off his floor roster. His ever-present hoodie hung awkwardly on his lanky frame and both shoes were untied.

"Derek, it's about time," Hotch said, checking his name off. "You're one of the last ones."

"Sorry," Derek said. "I figured it was a drill."

"I don't think so," he said. His sleepiness was pulling his usually well-hidden Virginia accent out in full force, pulling his vowel sounds long and drawled. "They give RAs the heads up if there's a drill. I didn't hear anythin' about it. Either somebody was pullin' a really stupid prank at three in the morning, or there was a real fire."

Derek snickered. "You must be tired," he said. "Your accent's coming out real bad."

"I don't have an accent, Morgan," Hotch said grumpily.

"You can't even say 'fire' correctly."

"Yes, I can."

"Say it. Say 'fire'."

"Fire."

"No, you said _fahr_ ," Derek teased. "That's not a real word."

"Shut up," Hotch said. "Where's Spencer? He's the only one missing."

Derek glanced around. "Oh, fuck," he said.

"Did you lose him?" Hotch demanded.

Derek turned around. "I didn't think so!" he said. "He was right behind me on the stairs, I guess- oh, wait, no. There he is."

The tiny kid had gotten himself swallowed up in the crowd, darting around older and taller students, until he finally collided with Derek's legs. "Hey, pretty boy, there you are," he said. "We were wondering where you went."

"Yeah, it's hard to navigate when you're elbow-height to everybody else," Spencer retorted. He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Everybody kept stepping on me."

"Just stay close then, and don't wander off," Hotch said.

Spencer squinted up at him. "Why do you have an accent?" he asked.

"I told you, Hotch," Derek grinned.

Hotch rolled his eyes "Now we'll just wait for the all clear to go back inside, and then-" He stopped midsentence. "Spencer. Where are your shoes?"

Derek looked over at the kid. Spencer was barefoot and dressed only in an oversized tee shirt and his threadbare boxer briefs. He was shivering but he didn't seem to notice, watching the dorm building with interest. "Is there really a fire?" he said. "I thought I smelled smoke when I passed the third floor."

"Spencer Reid. Where are your shoes?"

Spencer looked down at his feet. "Oh," he said. "I, um...I forgot."

"Where's your jacket?"

Spencer just shrugged. Hotch sighed heavily, handed his clipboard with the roster to Derek, and took off his hoodie. "Put this on," he said. "You're making me cold."

Spencer frowned. "Why do grownups say things like that?" he said.

"I'm not a grownup. Put it on."

"You're kind of a grownup," Derek said. Hotch shot him a look as Spencer wrestled the hoodie on and zipped it up to his chin.

Gideon strode across the quad, seemingly unruffled by the rain. "False alarm," he called. "They'll clear us in a moment, and then you can call go back inside."

"I wonder what started it," Derek said.

A voice floated over the crowd in the courtyard. "Sorry, I just wanted to make popcorn!"

Derek scowled. "At three in the morning, Anderson?" he hollered back.

"I was hungry!"

It was starting to rain harder now, threatening to soak into the shoulders of his jacket. Spencer struggled with the cuffs of the hoodie; Hotch silently rolled them up past his thin wrists. "Hopefully they'll let us back in soon," Derek said.

Hotch dragged his hand over his face. "God, I just wanna go back to sleep," he sighed.

"I want to finish my book," Spencer said.

Hotch paused. "Weren't you asleep?" he said.

"No, he wasn't," Derek said. "He's been reading since bedchecks."

"Spencer, you _have_ to sleep," Hotch said.

"But I'm not tired," he objected.

Hotch raised an eyebrow. "The dark circles under your eyes say otherwise," he said dryly. "Come on, they're letting us back in. Let's get out of the rain."

"Thank god," Derek said, sticking his hands in his pockets. He started the trek back to the dorms, but paused when he realized Hotch and Spencer had fallen behind. Spencer walked slowly, picking his way carefully over the rain-slick stones of the courtyard, and Hotch was keeping up with his pace.

"Guys, can we go?" Derek called.

Hotch sighed impatiently and picked Spencer up. "You don't have to carry me," he protested, gripping Hotch's shoulders.

"It's gonna take you twenty years to get inside," he said. He jostled him lightly, adjusting his grip as he caught up to Derek.

"Did you seriously forget your shoes?" Derek said. "There was enough time to grab them."

Spencer was quiet for a moment. "I couldn't," he said.

"Why not?" Hotch asked.

"They fell apart," he admitted. "The tape wasn't working anymore."

"So you can't wear them?"

Spencer shook his head. Derek caught Hotch's eye and shrugged. He couldn't quite read the older boy's expression in the half light of the Lincoln House lobby, but he had a feeling that Hotch wasn't going to accept that as an answer.

The crowd had thinned out as six floors' worth of students filed back up the stairs to their rooms. Hotch set Spencer down carefully on his feet and nudged him towards the stairs. "You need to go to bed," he said. "And at least try to sleep. No books."

"But I'm not tired, I swear," Spencer said.

Hotch herded both of them up the stairs. "Well, staying up and reading isn't helping," he said. "At least try to sleep."

Derek flipped the lights on and immediately flopped onto his bed. "Oh my god, I'm so glad we don't have class in the morning," he sighed.

Spencer's bed didn't look slept in. Hotch dug around under his pillow and pulled out a paperback. "Hey!" Spencer protested.

"I'm taking this," Hotch said. "Just for tonight. You need to sleep."

Spencer wrestled with the zipper of the borrowed hoodie. "Well, you can have this back," he said, wriggling out of it and tossing it to him.

It didn't even get halfway. Hotch picked it up from the floor. "Both of y'all, go to bed," he said.

Derek laughed. "You just said 'y'all.' Are you turning into James?" he said.

"Goodnight!" Hotch said loudly, and he turned off the lights and closed the door. Derek rolled around under his warm blankets, getting comfortable. He meant to keep an eye on Spencer, make sure that he was actually going to sleep, but he dozed off too quickly.

* * *

Spencer laid awake staring at the ceiling, listening to Derek's steady deep breathing from the other side of the room. At least with his book he could distract himself, but now he was left with his thoughts churning and tangling together. And he was freezing. The light rain outside had left his shirt and hair faintly damp, and his blanket wasn't doing much of anything to warm him up against the strong AC pumping through the vent above him. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep- he was exhausted. He just couldn't.

He waited until the sunlight was bright through the window and he was sure that it was late enough that he could get up without raising Hotch's suspicions. Derek was still asleep, but he slipped out of bed and got dressed quietly.

He sat down on the floor and pulled his shoes out from under the bed. But there was no way he could wear them. The uppers had completely pulled away from the cracked soles. Not that the shoes fit him anyway, he'd outgrown them months ago.

He slipped out of the room, still barefoot, and made his way down the hall, but he stopped short when he saw the older kids all piled on the couches in the common room. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Not much," James said. "Hotch was telling us about the fire alarm this morning."

"Ugh, do _not_ remind me," Emily groaned. She slumped back on the couch, her arms folded over her chest and her legs splayed out. "I could hear the damn thing all the way from Roosevelt, and it took forever to turn off."

Spencer tilted his head. "Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?" he asked.

"Emily doesn't know how to pace herself," Dave quipped.

He looked at Alex and she beckoned him over. "Emily has a hangover," she whispered.

"Oh," he said as he climbed on the couch to sit next to Alex. "Stay hydrated and eat carbohydrates."

Emily shifted her sunglasses so she could squint at him over the frames. "How do you know these things?" she said.

"I read," he shrugged. "Which, by the way...Hotch, can I have my book back?"

"Not quite yet," Hotch said. "We, uh...we need to talk."

A little spike of panic ran through Spencer's heart. "About what?" he asked.

"You're not in trouble," Alex reassured him quickly.

"I feel like I'm in trouble," he said. "You guys are all staring at me."

Hotch sighed heavily. "Spencer, we've been talking," he said. "You can't do this anymore. Your shoes have fallen apart, the backpack on your zipper is busted, you came to _boarding_ school without any bedding except for one blanket that looks like it'll fall apart in the wash, and you don't have a coat or any warm clothes for the winter."

Spencer curled up back into the couch, his heart thudding against his ribcage. "Tennessee has a fairly temperate climate-" he began in a tiny voice.

"Not in January, _passerotto,_ " Dave said.

He couldn't breathe. "I can't...I don't know what you want me to do about it," he said. "I'm not sure…"

"Slow down, Spencer, slow down," Alex said, rubbing his back lightly. "Take a deep breath."

He closed his eyes. "I know your parents kind of just threw you to the wolves out here," Hotch said. "And I'm guessing you can't just call them and ask them to help you out." Spencer raised and lowered one shoulder. That was an understatement. "But you don't have to worry about it. At this point you should have a decent amount in your flex account to at least get shoes, maybe a backpack."

"And anything else you need or want, Emily and I can cover it," Dave said. Emily held up both hands in peace signs.

"You guys don't have to do that," he said. "I'm okay. I'm sure I'm not the first kid to show up to school without a lot of stuff."

"Spencer, there's a difference between not having a lot of stuff and not have basic things that you need," Alex pointed out.

He fidgeted uncomfortably. "I'm okay," he said. "I can make my backpack work if I hold it right, and I don't think winter will be that bad. And the school gave me sheets and a pillow, so that's fine."

"Sheets are Morgan's, the pillow is Hotchner's," Emily said in a loud monotone.

Spencer's mouth dropped open. "But...but you said-"

Hotch shrugged. "We weren't going to let you sleep on a bare mattress without a pillow," he said.

Spencer huddled against the arm of the couch, his knees pulled to his chest. He didn't know how to argue with this. He couldn't think of anything to say, and he could feel their eyes boring into him.

Alex slipped an arm around his shoulders, turning him slightly so he was only looking at her. "How about this?" she offered. "We'll all go out together, okay? It'll be fun. We'll get something to eat, and we'll get you shoes. And if you change your mind, and there's anything else you need, all you have to do is say something."

He didn't know what to say. Instead he bit his lower lip hard, running the offer back and forth in his mind. Alex tapped his chin, catching his attention back, and after a moment he nodded hesitantly.

"I've already texted the girls, they're getting ready now," Hotch said. "I guess I'd better wake up Derek."

"Speaking of wake up, I'm gonna take a nap while I still can," Emily said, slumping down further.

"I saw you chugging those beers, Prentiss, you made some really poor choices last night," Dave said.

Emily held up her hand. "Shut it, Rossi," she said.

"Well, you're not riding in my car. You might puke again."

"I didn't puke _in_ your car, I puked _next_ to your car."

They bickered back and forth, but Spencer stayed silent. Without thinking he leaned closer into Alex's side; she was laughing as Emily and Derek bantered, but she kept rubbing her thumb against his shoulder. Her soft cardigan smelled like old books and the violet and vanilla bean scent of her familiar perfume, and he pressed his cheek against her arm as he tried to slow the anxious rapid beating of his heart.

* * *

James glanced back in his rearview mirror. Emily was asleep, her head tilted back and her mouth hanging open; Spencer was busy reading the book Hotch had given back to him, but he kept absently pulling at his seatbelt. The strap sat too high on his small body, running over his throat instead of his chest. He filed that thought away to check later.

Alex sat next to him in the passenger seat, her legs curled under her as she scrolled through her phone. She'd left her hair down, hanging loose over her shoulders, and she leaned close enough to him that it brushed against his arm. "Penelope says Dave wants to stop and get something to eat first," she said.

"Did he say where?"

Emily suddenly pulled herself up like a zombie, nearly elbowing Spencer in the face and leaning in between their armrests. "What's that place you took me before?" she said, her voice raspy. "I want...I want that."

"Jesus, Emily, I thought you were sleeping," James said, startled.

Her sunglasses slipped down her nose. "I was, but I'm hungry," she said. "Tell Dave I wanna go to the place."

"All right, all right, I'll text Penelope," Alex laughed. "How's your hangover?"

Emily flopped back in her seat and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. "Well, I've reached the 'I need shitty fast food' stage, so that's a thing," she said. "And this headache is killing me."

"I told you, hydrate and eat carbs," Spencer said without looking up from his book.

"What do you know about hangovers?" Emily objected.

He shrugged. "I read a lot," he said.

Emily rolled her eyes. "No wonder Alex has adopted you," she said. "You should see her side of the room. It's mostly books. You work in a library, Miller, why do you have to bring your work home with you?"

Alex twisted around in her seat. "Your side of the room looks like Hot Topic threw up," she complained. "You promised you were going to clean."

"I will!" Emily said. "It's just that _I_ was busy throwing up this morning."

James made the turn in the Sonic parking lot and pulled into a space next to Dave's car. "Hey, look, we're here," he said.

He shielded his eyes from the sun as he got out of the driver's seat. The morning's coolness and soft rain was long gone, replaced by oppressive heat and sweltering humidity. Alex pulled off her cardigan and tossed it on her seat before she closed her door. "Yikes, it's hot," she said. "I think it's hotter out than it was this time last year."

"The average temperature around here in September is 84 degrees, but the highest on record was is a hundred and two," Spencer said. He squinted up at Emily. "And yes, that's something else I learned from reading."

Emily groaned. "I can't learn new things right now, I need food," she said. She picked Spencer up under his arms and slung him up onto the curb. "Move it, Dr. Reid."

"Hey, put me down!" he protested, kicking his short legs. He was wearing his school uniform dress shoes, which made for an odd sight paired with his oversized and well-worn tee shirt and shorts. "I can walk on my own, Emily!"

The others had already picked tables and crowded around the menu boards. "Derek, are you going to be able to eat all of that?" Hotch asked.

"Hell yeah I can!"

Penelope gazed at the glossy pictures of ice cream and milkshakes. "I don't know if I can only pick one," she said. "JJ, help me. Do I want chocolate or not-chocolate?"

"Uh...chocolate?"

"Thank you. That narrows it down. A little bit."

Placing nine separate orders at the speakers was a little bit of a hassle, but they made it. Well, eight orders, honestly. Spencer had tried to slip past them without getting anything, but Emily had shrugged and added a bunch of extra things to her order, and had at least gotten him to pick out a drink.

James started to take the nearest open seat at the table; Dave cleared his throat and nodded towards the empty space on the bench next to Alex. He took the hint and sat down beside her, but she was distracted. "Emily, are you okay?" she asked.

Emily put her head down on her folded arms. "I'll be fine when I'm not starving, I think," she said. She sat up and dragged her hands over her eyes, smearing the last streaks of last night's mascara. "And I promise, I'll clean my side of the room. Maybe tomorrow, though." She slid her sunglasses back on. "Not that I have a lot of experience with room cleaning."

"Why, you don't clean your room back home?" Derek joked. He paused. "Wait, are you serious?"

Emily shrugged. "Every ambassador's residence I've lived in has a full staff," she said. "What's the point, my dude?"

"You're so lucky," Derek said. "My mom is always nagging me to clean my room."

"If it looks anything like our dorm room, your mom is justified," Spencer said.

"I'd rather clean my room than wash dishes," JJ said. "It's so gross."

Alex shook her head. "I'd rather wash dishes than do my brothers' laundry," she said. "They're disgusting. And my dad somehow has it in his head it's a girl chore so I _have_ to do it."

"Seriously? That's archaic," Dave said.

"Tell me about it," Alex said. "Scotty and Danny couldn't operate a washing machine if I paid them to do it." She turned and looked at Dave. "What about you, Rossi? Would you be able to manage?"

"No, I'm perfectly capable of washing my own clothes," Dave said. "But...my mom still irons things. For some reason she won't let me touch the iron."

"You guys have it so easy," Hotch said. "Have any of you ever been sent out to mow the lawn in the middle of the summer? It's seriously from hell."

Spencer turned a page in his book. "Sometimes I had to take my mom's credit card and walk six blocks to the nearest payphone to pay the power bill," he said absently.

James frowned. "Why would you have to walk that far?" he said.

"Why would you have to pay it in the first place?" Hotch asked.

Spencer didn't look up. "Well, she forgot to pay sometimes, and the electricity would be turned off, so I'd take care of it," he explained.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Alex reached over and placed her fingertips on the page, and he looked up. "Spencer," she said. "Did that happen a lot?"

"Did what happen?" he asked. "Having to pay a bill, or getting utilities turned off?"

"Both."

He shrugged. "Fairly often," he said. He looked around at them and his face fell. "Haven't...haven't you guys had to do that before?"

There was a long pause. "No, darling," Alex said softly.

All the color drained from Spencer's face, as if he had just realized that he'd said the wrong thing. He shrank into himself, pulling his book away from Alex's hand and hugging it to his chest. No one said anything.

Emily slammed her hands down on the table and got up. "Hey, Spencer, do you want ice cream?" she asked.

He blinked. "I'm not sure what ice cream has to do…"

"I'm getting you ice cream," she said firmly.

* * *

Dave trailed behind Penelope and JJ. The nine of them had split up once they got to the shopping plaza; somehow he and James had ended up chaperoning the two youngest girls in a craft store. As it turned out, it wasn't so much chaperoning both of them as it was making sure that Penelope didn't go too wild in the middle of a Michaels.

"Dave!" she shrieked, holding up two identical skeins of blue embroidery floss. "Which color should I get?"

"Are they not the same?" he asked.

"No! One is sky blue, one is cerulean!"

He leaned over to James. "Can you tell the difference?" he whispered.

"Not a bit."

"Cerulean!" Dave called back.

"Thank you!"

"Yeah, those looked the same," James said. He nudged Dave lightly. "You doing okay? You're really quiet."

"Hm?" Dave said. "Yeah. Just...thinking." He looked at a display of brightly colored paints, picked one up, and dropped it back on the shelf. "I knew Spencer was in a bad place, but…"

His voice trailed off. "Yeah," James said quietly.

Dave dropped his hands in his pockets. Somehow it hadn't clicked that Spencer's life might have been miserable outside of St. Thaddeus. It was one thing to see him within the safe bubble of the school, nagging him about his disintegrating sneakers and his gross backpack. It was completely different to hear a child casually mention that he had to pay bills because there wasn't power in his home.

It rattled him. It rattled him more than he realized.

Penelope bounced over to them, her arms laden down with her treasures. "I think I've made my choices," she said.

"Give it to me," he said suddenly. "My treat."

Her blue eyes went round. "Dave, this is like...forty dollars' worth of crafting nonsense," she said.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," he said.

She squealed and flung her arms around his neck, smacking him in the face with a skein of yarn. "You're the best!" she said. "You're so nice! You have my undying love and affection!"

"Yeah, yeah, stop strangling me," he grinned. "JJ, you want anything?"

"No, not really, but thanks," she said. "I think Pen is going to make me something with this stuff anyway."

"Probably a scarf!" Penelope said cheerfully.

He paid for her treasures at the register and handed her the bag, earning another joyful squeeze from Penelope. "Let's go catch up with Spencer and Alex, I think they're in the bookstore," James suggested as they walked back out into the sunshine and the oppressive heat.

"Dave, how long has James been pining after Alex?" Penelope inquired.

"I'm not-"

"Third week of ninth grade."

James rolled his eyes. "I do not _pine_ ," he scoffed.

"Yes, you do," Penelope said. "You're as bad as Hotch when he's around Haley. At least Haley seems to be in on it. I don't think Alex has caught onto your swooning."

James turned red. "I do not _swoon_ ," he said.

"I don't know, you seem pretty swoony," JJ grinned, tilting her head up to look at him.

He opened the door to the bookstore a little more briskly than necessary. "It's not as bad as you guys think," he said. "It's really not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find some nice medical histories to bury myself in."

Dave waited for him to walk out of earshot. "I've got a pool going," he whispered. "What do you think- he'll ask her out before or after the Christmas dance?"

"Valentine's Day," JJ said.

"Oh, Halloween at the latest," Penelope said. "Trust me. I'm really good at matchmaking." She grabbed JJ's hand and flung her bag of craft supplies over her shoulder. "Come on, Jayje, there's a book I need to show you!"

"All right, all right, you don't need to drag me!" JJ said.

Dave laughed as he headed towards the true crime section. Penelope was a little too optimistic about James confessing his feelings. At this rate, he wouldn't say anything to her until their twenty-year high school reunion.

He rounded the corner and found Spencer sitting crosslegged on the floor, a book open on his lap. "Hey, _passerotto_ ," he said. "Whatcha reading?"

Spencer held it up, his mouth pressed in a firm line. "Just a short story anthology," he said.

"Yeah?" Dave said. He hesitated, then sat down on the floor next to him. "Hey. I know you've been getting this a lot today. But I think we need to have a talk."

Spencer blanched. "Why?" he said.

"I know you don't want to accept any help," Dave said bluntly. "I know that's part of it, that you don't want charity." Spencer chewed at his lower lip, dropping his gaze to the floor. "But I think, after what you said-"

"I didn't mean to say it," Spencer said quickly. "I didn't."

He could sense the kid's panic building, heavy and palpable, so he gave him a moment, letting Spencer's breathing pick up and then slow down, pressing his fingers against his mouth. "Yeah, I figured you didn't mean to say it," Dave said gently. "But let me ask you this. Are you scared that Emily and I will be in trouble if we spend money on you?"

He caught the slight wobble in Spencer's lower lip, and then after a long moment he nodded.

"Kid, you don't have to worry," Dave said. He shifted around so he was a little closer, keeping his voice gentle. "Emily and I both have credit cards. We don't have bills to pay, we're just kids. We have credit cards from our parents because our parents don't have to worry about money, and they don't want us to worry about anything." He hesitated. "Not like you've had to worry."

Spencer bit at his lower lip so hard that a tiny drop of blood welled up. "Sometimes...sometimes my mom forgot to buy groceries," he confessed. "One time I ate ramen and vending machine snacks for two weeks because there wasn't anything in the house, and they wouldn't let me use her credit card at the store without her, and I couldn't reach the stove."

"Yeah?" Dave said. He rested his hand lightly on Spencer's back. The kid was so small and so thin that his shoulderblades jutted out into his palm. Something else he hadn't realized. "Well, that's not something you have to think about here. You don't have to go hungry or worry about the power getting turned off. And you don't have to worry about that for me or Emily either."

He could tell that Spencer was listening, weighing his words. But he didn't want to say anything that could scare him off, so he stayed silent, letting the kid think.

Finally Spencer turned towards him, his hazel eyes big in his pale little face. "You promise it's okay?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Dave said. Spencer nodded hesitantly. "Is that a yes? You're okay with us helping you?"

"Uh-huh," Spencer said.

Dave smiled. "I'm glad," he said, and he hoped Spencer could hear the sincerity that he could feel so fiercely. "I'm really glad, kid." He squeezed his shoulder. "You wanna go tell Alex? I think she'll be pretty excited to hear that."

Spencer nodded. Dave pushed himself up off the floor and helped the kid up. He wanted to say something else, something that might be reassuring or comforting, but he couldn't think of anything. Better to leave it to Alex.

* * *

Alex sensed Spencer hovering close to her side as they walked through the sliding glass doors into to Target. The other kids were still talking, loud and excited, and she silently reached for his hand. He grabbed on without a word, squeezing tight.

"So I think we should divide and conquer," Dave said. "Spencer, is there anything else you thought of?"

He shook his head. Alex rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. "Okay, wait, wait, can we _please_ stop at Starbucks?" Penelope begged. "I need a PSL _so badly._ "

"A what?" Hotch said.

"Pumpkin spice latte," Penelope explained. "The hallmark of fall. I can't adequately begin celebrating without one."

"It would help if it actually felt like fall and it wasn't a million degrees out," Derek said. "Why do you want to get hot coffee right now?"

She rolled her eyes. "I can get it iced," she huffed.

"You don't even _like_ coffee!"

"I like these!"

"Okay, okay, stop arguing," Hotch said. "Penelope, go get Starbucks if you want it that bad." She beamed and zipped away. "Spencer, you're sure you can't think of anything else?"

He shook his head again, leaning closer to Alex until he was nearly holding onto her skirt. "Well, we'll go look at clothes," she said. "I'll take JJ and Penelope with us. You guys go look for the rest of the list."

"All right, text if you have any updates," Dave said. "Come on, the rest of you, let's go."

Alex looked down at Spencer and smoothed his wild hair. "What are you thinking about?" she asked. "I can see those gears turning."

He shrugged. "I'm okay," he said.

Penelope bounced over to them with her cup in her hands. "I'm ready now!" she said. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

"Oh, it might have been a bad idea to let her have coffee," JJ said.

"No, it's fine, it's mostly syrup and milk. I think that balances out the caffeine."

"Yeah...it doesn't work like that."

* * *

Dave dragged the cart over to the side. "All right, Derek, anything else you can remember off the top of your head?" he asked.

"No, I think we're going pretty good," he said. "Besides, everything else we haven't found here, Emily's found online."

She waved her phone, "Just tell me when to hit complete order," she said.

"I feel like we're missing something," Hotch said. He picked up a candle off the shelf, looked at the scent description on the bottom, and put it back. "I just can't think of it. It's killing me."

James cleared his throat. "Uh...he needs a booster seat," he said.

Hotch nearly dropped a candle. "Oh my god," he said. "I hadn't even thought of that."

"Oh, shit, yeah, I've been sitting next to him in the car and the seatbelt goes, like, right across his neck," Emily said.

"He's gonna fucking _hate_ this, isn't he?" Dave said.

"Yeah, he is," James said. "But he needs it."

They got partway towards the correct aisle when suddenly Emily burst out "oh, fuck!" and darting down a different aisle. "Prentiss, what's wrong with you?" Dave called.

She emerged from the other end with her arms loaded up with bottles. "These are for me," she said, dumping them in the cart. "Pedialyte is great for hangovers."

"Are you going to make it a habit of getting drunk?" Dave said.

She grinned as she cracked open a bottle. "Eh, we'll see," she said cheerfully. "But better to be prepared, am I right? Isn't that like a boy scout thing? Or girl scouts?"

"I don't think 'be prepared' applies to 'I have a hangover from underage drinking'," James said.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Dad," she said. "You guys go pick out the thing. Derek, come with me. We're going to go get the fun stuff."

Hotch frowned. "What fun stuff?" he said.

Emily was already halfway gone; she held her half-drunk bottle in the air. "To the toy aisle!" she shouted.

* * *

Alex could see how glazed over Spencer's eyes had gotten. Things had started off well, but JJ and Penelope had gotten a little too enthusiastic, and they'd gotten so excited to the point that they weren't even asking Spencer for his input.

"What about this one?" Penelope asked, brandishing a shirt over her head with one hand and her coffee in the other.

"Oh, I like that one!" JJ said.

Penelope tossed it in the cart. Alex turned to Spencer. "What do you think?" she asked. "Do you like it?" He shrugged, his hand pressed against his mouth.

"Ooh, what about-"

"Hey, I think we're just about done here," Alex interrupted as she drew Spencer closer to her side. "Can you two girls go find the others? Tell them we'll meet them at the register in a little bit."

As soon as the girls were out of earshot, she tugged lightly on Spencer's sleeve. "Hey," she said. "What are you thinking?" He shrugged. "So do you like all the things the girls picked out for you?"

"I don't know," he said.

She smoothed his hair away from his forehead. "You're allowed to say what you like and don't like," she said. "They're not going to be mad at you about it." He didn't seem convinced, and she grabbed a tee shirt out of the cart- neon blue with a cartoon character on it. "Do you really like this?"

"Not really," he admitted in a small voice.

She walked over to the returns rack outside the dressing room and hung it up. "Then you're not getting it," she said. Spencer seemed to brighten a tiny bit at that. "What about this?" He shook his head, and she hung it up too.

She went piece by piece through every item in the cart, hanging up everything that didn't meet with his approval. When everything was properly sorted out, she walked him back through the boys' clothing section, letting him wander and touch everything. She wasn't surprised at the things he picked out- soft solid colored tee shirts, striped button ups, cozy cardigans and sweaters.

He was bright-eyed and beaming by the time they were finished, the contents of the cart refilled with his new choices. "Can I get one more thing?" he asked.

"Of course, what are you looking for?" she said.

He grabbed a pair of dark blue shoes out of the the cart and zipped away, then came back with a pair of purple sneakers. "Can I get these instead, please?" he begged.

"Toss 'em in," she said. He set them gently down in the cart. "You ready?"

"Uh-huh," he said, trying to reach for the handle. She reached around and pushed the cart for him.

The others were waiting for them up at the front, their cart laden down with even more things- she could spot a new comforter and pillows in the mix, and some boxes hidden at the bottom that seemed suspiciously like toys. And on the top-

"Oh my god, I didn't even think about getting him a booster seat," she said.

Spencer's mouth dropped open. "Do I really need one of those?" he complained.

"Yes, you do," James said.

"I'm too old for a booster seat!"

Hotch frowned. "Spencer, what are the Tennessee booster seat laws?" he said.

"Oh, he's not going to know that," Emily scoffed.

Spencer sighed heavily. "Children under the age of eight and under four feet, nine inches must be in a belt-positioning booster seat system in the rear of the vehicle," he said.

"Hot damn, he does know it," Emily said.

"I'm older than eight!" he protested.

"But you're well under four-nine," Dave said. "We're getting you the booster seat, whether you like it or not."

The happy glow faded fast from Spencer's face, leaving him pale and pinched. To Alex's surprise, he actually stuck out his lower lip in a frustrated pout. "Hey, it's getting pretty late," she said. "We should probably finish up here and head back."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right, let's go," Dave said, herding the flock towards the nearest register.

Trying to get everything out of the two carts and onto the belt with half a dozen people attempting to help turned into pure chaos. Spencer shrank back from their bickering, backing away towards a magazine display. She wasn't quite sure what to do with him- it was painfully obvious that he was tired and overwhelmed, but she didn't know if he'd be able to keep himself together, or how he might react if she tried to step in.

The breaking point hit when Emily and Dave started arguing over who was going to pay. It got heated quickly, the two of them hollering in Italian, Emily's sunglasses threatening to bounce off her head. It was almost comical, especially since it was painfully obvious that they were both a second away from cracking up, and the others were loudly egging them on, picking sides.

But Spencer kept fidgeting, his teeth digging into his lower lip, and she saw the sharp rise and fall of his shoulders. She caught James's arm lightly. "I'm taking Spencer outside," she whispered. "Just come get us when we're ready to leave."

He nodded, clearly caught off guard, and without lingering to explain, Alex took Spencer by the hand and firmly tugged him alongside her. "Where are we going?" he said, his voice rising in a whine.

"We're going to sit outside until it's time to go," she said. "You've had a long day, and there's a lot going on."

"No, no, no, Alex, I'm fine," he protested, trying to pull his hand out of her grip.

She walked him outside, holding onto to him tightly. The sun was threatening to set on the horizon, but it was still oppressively hot, lessened only by a soft intermittent breeze. She found a red bench in the shade and sat down, then pulled him onto her lap.

"I'm not a baby," he complained, half-heartedly trying to escape. "I could've stayed. I could've handled it."

"No, I think you're done," she said. "And that's fine. We're going to stay out here and wait for everybody else."

She half expected him to keep struggling, but instead he sagged against her, his cheek resting against her shoulder and his forehead tucked against the crook of her neck. His temper tantrum fizzled before it could properly start, the fight seeping out of his small body. Alex adjusted her grip on him, shifting until he was comfortable against her. She could have guessed this sort of thing was coming. She'd babysat plenty of kids his age; he'd had a hard day, and it shouldn't have surprised her to see him melt down. 

She nearly lost track of time when she felt James's hand on her shoulder. "Hey, we're ready to go," he said. "I think we figured out the booster seat. Is he asleep?"

Spencer raised his head, rubbing his eyes. "'m awake," he said, sliding down from her lap.

James smiled. "C'mon, buddy, let's get you home," he said.

* * *

"Okay, there's a shit ton of stuff in here, so everybody has to help," Dave said. "I don't care if you're tired, you're all gonna carry things."

Hotch climbed out of the passenger seat as James's car pulled up and parked in the spot next to them. "But I _am_ tired," Penelope said.

"There's like five bags of clothes, take some of them," Hotch said. She huffed and rolled her eyes.

Alex got out of James's car and leaned on the roof, beckoning to Hotch. "Hotchner, you're the biggest one, this is a job for you," she whispered loudly.

He screwed up his face. "Why?"

Emily joined Alex, her sunglasses pushed to the top of her head. "The baby's asleep," she whisper-shouted.

Hotch crossed around to the other side of the car and peeked inside. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, buckled safely in his booster seat, his chin tipped to his chest and his hands limp on his lap. "Well, I guess I have to carry him," he said. Alex and Emily both nodded. 

He unbuckled him carefully, pulling the straps off his arms, and lifted him cautiously; Alex kept her hand on his back to steady him. "You've got him?" she asked. "It's a long walk back."

"Yeah, yeah, I got him," he said, rubbing Spencer's narrow back. The kid leaned heavily against his chest, his cheek smushed into his collarbone and his arms draped over his broad shoulders, but thankfully he didn't wake.

Alex was right, it was a long walk back to Lincoln House. Spencer was small and slight, but he was dead weight in his arms. Hotch trailed behind the others, trying to keep from jostling him too much.

His arms ached by the time he got up the seventh floor. "Put him down on the couch out here so he can sleep while we get stuff set up," Dave said.

Hotch eased him down carefully; Spencer mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over onto his stomach. He watched him with baited breath, hoping he didn't wake up.

Derek shook out Spencer's favorite blanket and tossed it over him. "There, that'll keep him asleep," he said. He started to turn away, then paused. "Hotch. Stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying," he said as he smoothed the blanket over the kid.

"You gonna come help us?"

"Yeah, yeah...I'm coming. Give me just a second."

* * *

Penelope clapped her hands. "Okay, _now_ can we wake him up?" she begged again.

JJ turned in a slow circle, scrutinizing the room from top to bottom. "I don't know, maybe we-"

"Yeah, I think we're ready," Dave said. "It's late anyway, we need to get out of here. Who's gonna get him?"

"Alex," James said immediately.

Alex laughed. "Fine, fine, I'll go," she said as James gave her a gentle push out the door.

Penelope nudged the new pens on Spencer's desk back into place. "It looks really good," she appraised. "Really, really good."

"It looks like I have an actual roommate," Derek said.

"Wait, wait, wait, everybody quiet down," Dave said. "Don't scare the kid."

Alex walked back in, her arm around Spencer's shoulders. He yawned heavily, his blanket clutched tightly in his grip. "Can I go to bed now?" he asked.

"Look around first though," Alex said, smoothing his untidy hair. "What do you think of your room?"

He glanced around, then paused and took a longer, slower look, his hazel eyes going wide. His side of the room was now neatly decorated- the bed covered in a purple galaxy print comforter and multiple soft pillows, his new pairs of shoes lined up nicely, a stack of brand new Lego boxes piled together by his desk waiting to be opened. "It's all mine?" he said in a tiny voice.

"Yeah, _passerotto,_ it's all yours," Dave said.

"You need more photos of us to hang, but other than that, it's almost perfect," Penelope said. "But don't worry, we'll fix it."

Spencer leaned against Alex's side, clutching his blanket, his eyes completely wide. "It's...it's a lot," he whispered.

"Yeah, but that's a good thing," Emily said. She reached over and ruffled his hair. "There's a couple of things on the way too from the internet."

"You guys, it's getting late, and Spencer needs to catch up on his sleep," Hotch said. "We can all talk about this tomorrow."

"And play with the new Legos tomorrow," Derek mumbled.

"The Legos are for Spencer, not for you!" James said. "Hotch is right, everybody else out."

Penelope found herself bundled out of the room like everyone else, but she lingered in the common room, waiting. Alex slipped out of Spencer's room last, closing the door behind her. "Hi! I have something for you!" Penelope said.

Alex jumped back. "Oh my god, you scared me!" she exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" she said. "I just want to give you this." She handed her a folded piece of pink stationery. "This is everything I could find about Spencer's parents. At least in ethical channels. I can find out a _lot_ more if you would just let me-"

"No, no, this is a good start," Alex said. She opened the paper and scanned it quickly, then looked up. "His father works for the law firm he called?"

"Uh-huh," she said. "His parents are divorced. I didn't find too much on his mother either, except for her work information. She's a professor of medieval literature. And I just so happened to find her university email address…"

"Pen, you're the best," Alex said, squeezing her arm. "I'll send her an message right now."

"The offer's always open if you need me to keep looking!" Penelope called as Alex hurried down the stairs.

"I think we'll be fine, but thank you!" she called back. "This should be enough!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a long chapter but hopefully a cute one!!
> 
> I ended up having some major health/anxiety issues last week that kept me from posting. Hopefully you enjoy this one though!!
> 
> Also I'm super tempted to record Hotch's southern accent lines and post them to tumblr so y'all can hear what it's supposed to sound like. 
> 
> And I'm going to answer comments, I promise!! I love and appreciate your comments with my whole heart!!
> 
> edit: so I recorded the Hotch lines if you want to know what he sounds like. if you go to my tumblr (themetaphorgirl) you can either scroll to the bottom of the pinned Patron Saint post, or look for the tag "hotch has an accent."


	14. new river

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is still oblivious. Spencer is happy. JJ is stressed. Penelope tries to help.

_I know the winds from the south have  
_ _The waves riled up like a hungry mouth_  
 _And your stomach goes hollow at the_  
 _Thought that it could swallow you whole_

_Well, it'll rain for forty days and nights,_   
_And nothing you do can slow the rising tides_   
_But the river takes her shape from every tempest she abides_   
_And like her, you'll be made new again_

_Let it come down, let it come down_   
_Let it make in you a new river_

\--"New River" by the Oh Hellos

* * *

_**monday** _

He woke up happy.

Derek's alarm rang across the room, earning a disgruntled mumble as his roommate slapped at sleepily. Spencer nestled himself deeper under his covers. His new sheets and comforter were soft and warm around him, and his new pajamas were soft and cozy against his skin, and his favorite blanket was tucked up against his cheek.

And then he realized that he'd actually slept. He didn't even remember falling asleep exactly- he had the vague memory of the other kids beaming with pride as they showed him his new room, and Alex tucking him into bed.

Derek's alarm went off again, and Spencer climbed out of bed, pulling the sheets and comforter back into place. "Morning, pretty boy," Derek yawned, rubbing his hand over his face. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah!" Spencer said. "What do you think they're going to have in the dining hall for breakfast? I'm so hungry."

He didn't wait for a reply; he hurried to get dressed so he would have enough time to move his things from his old backpack to his new one. They'd picked out new school supplies for him too, pens and pencils and highlighters and notebooks; he packed everything carefully but there was so much he almost couldn't close the zippers. It was heavier than he expected when he slid his arms through the straps, but he could definitely carry it.

Hotch didn't seem so convinced. He kept looking down at Spencer as they walked from Lincoln House to the dining hall. "Are you sure you can carry that?" he said.

"I'm good," Spencer said. "I've got it."

"Your backpack is as big as you are," JJ laughed.

He didn't mind, he knew she was just teasing. And he could see Emily and Alex waiting on the front steps, so he picked up his speed, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders. Emily half-heartedly covered a yawn with the back of her hand. "Oh, thank god, you guys are here," she said. "I need caffeine so bad."

"I'm starving," Spencer said, grabbing Alex's hand. "Can I get chocolate milk, please?"

Alex beamed at him. "I think we can do that," she said, squeezing his hand back. He followed her through the line, leaning on the rail as he pointed out what he wanted to eat and she placed it on the tray. And even though Hotch made a face, she let him get chocolate milk.

Dave and James showed up halfway through breakfast, taking their usual seats at the table. "Happy Monday, my nerds," Dave said, slapping his notebook down.

"Oh, you look pissed," Penelope said.

JJ elbowed her. "Don't say pissed," she said.

"It's not a cuss word."

"It's not polite."

Penelope leaned close to whisper-shout in her ear. " _Pissed_."

"Penelope!"

"Stop, stop, stop," Emily said, massaging her temples. "I'm still not caffeinated enough for this."

"What's got you so stressed?" Hotch asked.

Dave smacked the notebook. "This fucking creative writing project," he said. "It's the first one of the year, and I need to make a good impression on Strauss."

"You guys let him say bad words," Penelope mumbled under her breath.

"He's practically an adult," JJ whispered. "You can't stop an adult. It's different then if, like...if Spencer swore."

"Fuck!" Spencer piped up, and he giggled and ducked when JJ threw a wadded up napkin at him.

"Stop it," Alex laughed. She got up from the table and dug through her bag. "Hold on, Spencer, I need to fix your hair. You look like you've been electrocuted."

"Electrocution has a fairly low fatality rate, all things considered," Spencer said as Alex pulled out a spray bottle and a brush. "Also, lightning can definitely strike in the same place twice."

"How do you know these things?" Derek asked.

He shrugged. "I just do," he said.

Alex spritzed detangler through his thick silky hair and began gently working the brush through it. "You need a haircut in the worst way, my darling," she said. "You look like a very tiny Oscar Wilde."

"Oscar Wilde was arrested for sodomy and-" he started to say.

"Yeah, we're not unpacking all of that right now," Hotch said.

Alex's fingers were deft and gentle on his tangled hair, combing through his loose curls. "I think I could braid your hair, it's so long," she said.

"Wait, I want my hair braided," Emily said. "Alex, braid my hair."

"You didn't say please."

" _Please,_ Alex, braid my hair!" Emily pleaded. "I can't figure it out."

"All right, all right, fine, stop whining," Alex said, raising her hands in surrender.

* * *

Emily twirled the end of her braid around her finger as the school chaplain droned on. It didn't matter what was happening, chapel never failed to make her sleepy. The high hard back of the church pew was the only thing keeping her from actually dozing off.

She glanced across the aisle at the junior boys' section. Hotch had his arms folded and his chin tipped into his chest. Apparently the uncomfortable church pews didn't stop him from falling asleep.

She slid her phone out of her sleeve and opened her messaging app. Her dreams last night had rattled her, dredging up memories that she thought she'd locked away for good. It kept her in a haze still, a sour taste in her mouth and an ache in her chest.

Still no answer from Matthew.

She wondered if he'd even seen her messages. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he didn't want to.

She tapped back to the contacts page, glancing around surreptitiously to see if anyone had noticed her with her phone out, and her thumb hovered over John's name. But no. She couldn't. She didn't want to.

Instead she opened up a new text message, chose the newest number she'd added.

_hey :)_

She almost went back to delete the emoji, but she sent it too quickly and cursed under her breath. The girl next to her shot her a disgusted look. Emily glanced up at the rafters. If she wasn't going to hell yet, swearing in the middle of a chapel service would probably push her a little closer that direction.

To her surprise, her phone buzzed with a reply.

_hey girl. how's your hangover?_

She grinned despite herself. There had to be worse things than making friends with a public school party boy, right?

She tapped out a reply to Ian, but the girl next to her audibly huffed, and she slid her phone back into her sleeve. Maybe she could wait for the chapel to wrap up before she tried to keep texting.

* * *

_**tuesday** _

Dave waited so he could be the last one to turn in his work. He didn't feel like his story was ready to turn in, but at the same time, if he looked at any longer he might possibly go insane.

He set his neatly printed and stapled story down on the pile. Strauss didn't even look up from her computer as he placed it on her desk. "Thank you, Mr. Rossi," she said absently.

"No problem," he said.

He lingered for a moment, hoping she'd pick it up and at least read the cover. She glanced up at him. "You can go, Mr. Rossi," she said.

"Oh," he said. "Uh...okay."

He shouldered his backpack and headed out of the classroom, joining the rest of the student body migrating to the dining hall. Maybe he should have done just a little more editing before he turned it in. It might have been even better if he changed the point of view. If only he'd thought of that sooner…

"Hi!" Penelope said, popping up at his elbow.

He nearly tripped. "Jesus, Pen, you scared me," he said.

"Sorry, I have that effect on people," she said. She hopped down the stairs beside him, hugging her books to her chest. "Were you leaving Strauss's class? Did you turn in your story? I'm sure it's great. When can I read it?"

"You can read it when it comes back with an A," Dave said.

Penelope wrinkled her nose. "Strauss never gives As," she said. "She's way too tough. Emily and I have debate club on Thursday and I am positively _dreading_ it."

"That's my point," Dave explained patiently. "Strauss never gives As, unless it's _really_ good work. So I figure I'll get an A right off the bat, and then it'll be smooth sailing for the rest of the year."

"Or you'll get an A, and then drive yourself crazy the rest of the year trying to top yourself," she pointed out.

Dave paused. "Shit," he said. "I hadn't thought of that."

Penelope patted his shoulder. "I'm sure it'll all work out eventually," she said. "And once you get all those good grades in your creative writing class, your parents will stop giving you a hard time about wanting to be a novelist." She tucked her thumbs in the straps of her backpack and smiled up at him. "Let's get to lunch! I think it's a pasta day."

He stared at her, mouth agape, as she skipped away. "Wait a minute," he said. "Garcia! How do you know that? Come back here!"

* * *

"How long was that? How long was that?" Spencer asked eagerly.

Alex clicked the stopwatch on her phone. "Twelve minutes, seventeen seconds," she said. She capped the pen and dropped it down on the completed crossword puzzle. "That's not too bad."

"I could have helped you with the pop culture stuff," James pointed out.

"Nah, it was more fun to watch them try to struggle through it on their own," Dave said.

Alex rolled her eyes. "I think we did just fine," she said as she got up from her spot on the floor. "But I should probably get back to work." She kissed the top of Spencer's head. "You guys behave. And keep an eye on him."

She went back to shelving, dragging the cart along behind her. They were still being extra careful with Spencer, taking turns walking him from class to class and making sure someone was keeping him company. Just to be safe. He seemed to be so much happier, though, and the dark circles under his eyes were beginning to lighten.

Someone cleared their throat behind her. "Hey, um...is it okay to check these books out?"

She straightened up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Of course," she said. "Oh! T.S. Eliot, right?"

"You remembered," he said, smiling at her. He held up the book. "That project's over, so I'm switching to something a little more fun."

"Kate Atkinson?" she said. "You have good taste, she's one of my favorite authors."

"I know," he said, and she frowned. "I, uh….I sat behind you in a couple of classes last year. You carried her books around a lot, and I figured I should try them out."

"Oh," she said. "Uh-huh, I do read her stuff a lot. Human Croquet is my favorite, but Life After Life is a close second."

"I'll have to get that one next," he said. He tilted his head. "I'm John, by the way."

"Nice to meet you properly," she said. She nodded towards the full cart. "Sorry, I should probably keep going. I think one of the sophomores is working the desk for checkouts right now though."

"Sure," he said. "I'll see you when I've finished this one, I suppose."

She didn't think anything of it as she walked away and went back to shelving, humming under her breath. There wasn't much time left on her shift, and she was looking forward to locking up.

She pushed the empty cart back into place and leaned against the desk, biting back a yawn. "You tired?" James asked, approaching the circulation desk with his hands in his back pockets.

"Stayed up too late last night doing homework for history," she admitted.

James cleared his throat. "I was, uh, thinking about going over to the Honeybean in a little bit," he said. For some reason he seemed almost nervous, averting his gaze as his hair flopped over his eyes. "Do you...would you maybe want to go with me?"

"That would be great," she said, and he brightened. "I could definitely use some caffeine. Hey, Spencer, Dave, do you want to get coffee with James and I?"

Spencer's head popped up from the back of the couch. "Yes, please!" he called.

Dave pulled him back down. "No, we're good," he said. "We're fine. You guys go."

"But I want coffee!" Spencer objected.

Dave sighed heavily. "Fine," he said. "James, I tried."

Alex hip-checked him playfully. "Why do you look so sad?" she said. "I'll get you a cupcake, that'll cheer you up."

"Sure," James sighed. "That sounds nice."

* * *

_**wednesday** _

Penelope glanced up from her laptop as the door opened. "Hey, Jayje," she said. "How was practice?"

JJ dumped her soccer bag in the middle of the floor. Her face was bright red with exertion and her blond hair was matted to her temples. "Fine," she said shortly.

"Are you going to shower before dinner?" Penelope asked.

"Yeah."

Penelope rifled through her stack of brightly colored and sticker covered folders. "Do you have notes from English class today?" she asked. "I'd ask Spencer, but his handwriting is-"

JJ buried her face in her hands. "I hate soccer!" she sobbed.

Penelope froze, the folder slipping from her fingers. "Uh...just today?" she asked. "Or is...is this a more permanent thing?"

"No, I hate it, I hate it so fucking much!" she wailed. She sank down on the floor, still hiding her face. "I don't want to do it!"

Penelope slid off her bed and cautiously sat down on the floor next to her. "You can quit," she offered.

"I can't," JJ said, her shoulders hitching sharply. "I can't. I don't quit."

"Okay, yes, well…" Penelope said. "What's worse, quitting, or forcing yourself to do something you hate?" She rocked back on her heels. "Why'd you even start playing soccer if you don't like it?"

"I didn't _know_ I hated soccer," she said, swiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I just...I needed to. I can't explain it, but I had to do it."

Penelope fidgeted with the friendship bracelets on her wrist. JJ didn't tend to talk about personal things, she stayed close-lipped most of the time. She had the feeling this was the most she was going to get out of her for the time being. "So what do you want to do about it?" she asked.

JJ shrugged. "I don't know," she said. She wiped her nose on the hem of her tank top. "I can't quit, though."

"Can you pull back a little?" Penelope suggested. "Maybe tell your coach you don't want to play a lot. Ask if you can be the understudy?" She sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry, I know nothing about sports, everything I know is about theatre."

JJ half laughed. "I can't do that either," she sighed. "I've been working so hard and the coach is finally letting me play more. I can't suddenly change my mind and not want to play."

"Maybe you could do something else," Penelope said. "Like...you can play soccer, but also do something fun that you actually like. What kind of things do you like?"

JJ sniffled and hugged her knees to her chest. "Ballet," she said softly. "I used to dance a lot."

"You can still do that!" Penelope said. "There's a dance studio here- it's in the gym, I think. I bet there's a class, or a club. Or something." She smiled. "I bet you were really good at ballet."

JJ smiled a little. "I was," she said. "I had just started dancing en pointe when I quit."

"You can dance again," Penelope said. She elbowed her gently. "I'm sure it'll all come back to you."

"Maybe," JJ said. She scrubbed her cheek with the heel of her palm. "I'm sorry I came in here and started bawling."

"Oh, you're fine," Penelope reassured her. "You've seen me cry like, six times in the past week. This is only fair. Now, do you want to shower before we go to dinner? Because I adore you with my whole heart, but you're really sweaty."

* * *

Hotch's heart thumped in his chest. "Really, Penelope, I'm not feeling all that great," he said. "I don't know if I should be here. Maybe I should skip theatre club tonight."

"Nonsense," she said, linking her arm through his and forcibly dragging him along. "You're fine."

"But...maybe…"

"You don't have Lyme disease, Aaron Hotchner," she said. "Trust me. I am a _pro_ at WebMD, and you don't have Lyme disease."

"Why do I want to throw up, then?" he asked.

"Well," she said slowly. "I consulted our resident medical expert, future Dr. James Bartholomew Blake-"

"I don't know his middle name, but I'm sure it's not Bartholomew."

"Dr. James Blake, and he said he's diagnosing you with a big ol' crush on Haley Brooks," Penelope grinned.

He could feel the embarrassed flush heat up instantly across his cheeks. "I don't have a crush on Haley Brooks!" he said.

"Hotch, give it up," she said. "Your protests are _very_ cute, but they're absolutely useless. Besides, my sources say that you punched a guy in the hallway last week, and then she made out with you in the girls' bathroom."

"She just hugged me, we didn't make out!" he said. He stopped. "You knew?"

"Oh, yeah, we all figured it out," she said. "What, did you think you could walk around with one eye bruised up and swollen shut, and we wouldn't try to figure it out?" He involuntarily reached up towards his eye; the swelling had long since gone down, but the skin was still faintly purple and yellow along the edges of the bruise. "Don't worry about it, though. My sources told me that the guy you punched _totally_ deserved it."

"What sources?" he asked.

She opened the door to the theater and ushered him inside. "Let's just say I'm really, _really_ good at social media," she said.

"That doesn't answer my question," he objected. "How did you-"

He was so distracted that he didn't see Haley walking right over to him, adorable as ever in a flowy pink tank top and a scrunchie holding her hair back in a perky ponytail. "Hey, Penelope!" she said. "Hey, Aaron. Oh, your eye looks better!"

His mouth went dry. He wanted the floor to open him and swallow him whole. He wanted to, at the bare minimum, leave. Except it felt like his feet were rooted to the floor.

Before he could move, Haley reached for him and pulled him into a hug, her slender arms sliding around his neck. He couldn't move. He could catch the scent of her perfume, something light and sweet like flowers and honey, and she had to raise up on her toes to reach him. After a moment, he hugged her back.

He wasn't sure when to let go, he wasn't hugged often enough to really be familiar with the correct protocols, but after what he guessed was a socially-acceptable amount of time she stepped back, smiling at him. All this time he'd been avoiding her- because how was he supposed to come back from accidentally admitting one of his biggest secrets to her in a girls' bathroom?- and now he was slightly shocked to realize there wasn't anything to worry about.

He tried to think of something clever to say, or sweet, or at least _something_ , but what came out of his mouth instead was-

"You, uh...you hug real hard."

He immediately wished he was dead.

Haley laughed and flexed her right arm playfully. "It's all that cheerleading, they keep placing me as a base," she said. "Oh! Did you guys hear? Miss T finally announced the fall musical."

"Oh god," Penelope gulped. "Oh, no. What is it? Am I going to cry? Is there a role for a spunky blonde with a youthful belt?"

"Maybe?" Haley said. "We're doing Wedding Singer!"

Penelope shrieked; Hotch covered his ears. "Oh my god!" she said. "Oh, I'm so excited. I love that so much. Oh my god."

"Is that...like the Adam Sandler movie?" Hotch said.

"Yeah, it's based on it!" Haley said. "If you want, we can meet up and listen to the cast recording so you can be ready for auditions."

"Oh, I don't think I'm going to-" he started to say.

Haley held out her hand. "Give me your phone," she said. Too startled to argue, he handed it over, and she quickly tapped in her name and number, then sent a text to herself. "When are you usually free?"

"Uh...most of the time?" he said. "Except Saturday nights."

"We'll find a time then," she said. "I wish we could do it tomorrow, but I have cheer practice." She handed his phone back. "I think you'll like the show, though, it's really fun."

"Haley!" Harper called from across the house. "Come over here, I need to show you something!"

"Sorry, I've got to go," she said. "But text me soon, okay?"

She headed back down the center aisle, and Hotch looked down at his phone. She'd added little sparkle and pink heart emojis around her name. It was cute.

"Hey, Hotch, can you take like a really big breath for me?" Penelope said. "I don't think you've breathed in the past ten minutes."

The blush had definitely spread all the way to his ears and neck. "Shut up!" he said. "I've been...I've been breathing!"

* * *

_**thursday** _

"I hate this," Dave groaned as he pushed open the double doors from the main building. "This is _so_ stupid."

"Stop whining," Alex said. "It's not that bad."

Dave kicked at a rock. "We've already been sitting in classes all day, and now they want us to go sit for three more hours at this stupid senior class meeting?" he said. He yanked at his tie. "And it's so fucking hot! It's September, why is it so fucking hot?"

James squinted at his phone in the bright sunlight. "It's ninety-seven degrees, but with humidity it feels like a hundred and one," he said. "What did Spencer say was the highest recorded temp in Tennessee?"

"A hundred and two, I think," Alex said. "So not quite a record, but pretty damn bad." She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail at the crown of her head and tied it off with an elastic. "This is kind of going to be a drag, isn't it?"

"Yeah, especially since the kids are going to go have fun without us," James said. "Penelope said they were all going to get ice cream at the student union."

"Lucky bastards," Dave sighed.

His complaining really was merited; the heat was ever-present and slightly damp with humidity, his dark navy uniform blazer soaking up the sun to the point of being almost painful. They trekked across campus, their steps slowing as the heat started to get to them.

Mr. Cruz stood at the doors of the chapter with a roster. "David Rossi, James Blake, Alexandra Miller," he said, checking their names off. "Perfect, come on in. Oh, but make sure your phones are off."

"Come on, do we have to?" Dave complained.

"Sorry, kids, the headmaster's coming in to talk to you, and you know how he feels about cell phones out when he's speaking," Cruz said. "All three of you, phones off, I want to see it."

They pulled out their phones and switched them off, holding them up for Cruz's approval. "I find it deeply ironic that this is a senior seminar, but we're being treated like children," James said.

"Hey, if it was up to me, this probably could be a series of emails instead of an in-person meeting, but you know how things are with traditions around here," Cruz shrugged. "Go on in, take your seats. It's going to be a long afternoon, I'm afraid."

* * *

Penelope stumbled down the hall, catching the door to the English classroom just before it closed. "Ah, Miss Garcia," Ms. Strauss said, raising an eyebrow. "So nice you could join us for debate club."

"I'm sorry!" Penelope gasped, clinging to her backpack. "I forgot it was debate club day, and I was like, halfway through the courtyard, and then I remembered, and then-"

"No need for excuses," Ms. Strauss said as she closed the door behind her. "Hopefully this will remind you to be a little more focused and a little less tardy. I have noticed your tendency to be a little...how shall I say it? Flighty."

"I am focused!" Penelope said. "And you say flighty like it's a bad thing, but I think I'm just...you know. I'm energetic. And I'm thirteen! I think I have things pretty well together for a thirteen-year-old!"

Strauss sighed. "Just take your seat, please," she said. "I hope you and your partner are prepared for your presentation."

Penelope slid into her usual seat. "Oh, yes, we're-"

She stopped. Emily wasn't there. Not that they typically got a lot of work done in debate club; usually it turned into Emily letting her draw tattoos on her arms with her collection of gel pens while they surreptitiously watched Youtube videos on her phone. But they'd gotten enough done that they were ready for the project presentation today.

She craned her neck towards the door, trying to see through the small window. Maybe Emily was with the other kids; maybe she was on her way now.

"Miss Garcia, something fascinating you in the hallway?" Strauss asked.

Penelope whipped her head around. "No, ma'am," she said, trying to sound as meek as possible. All she could do was hope Emily would show up.

* * *

The second she reached the cool damp shade of the creek, she stripped off her blazer and wadded it up on the ground, then pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. She ripped off her tie too and dropped it in the pile.

Emily exhaled slowly. It was painfully hot, to the point that she kind of wondered why she would go through the effort hiking all the way out to the creek, but the water sounded soothing, and it was peaceful, and all in all, maybe it was a good choice.

She dug out a pack of cigarettes and her favorite lighter from the bottom of the stupid Kate Spade bag her mother got her, then found a shady spot close to the water. With another heavy sigh she sank down in the grass and lit the cigarette.

Half a dozen places she'd lived, and she'd always been able to find some kind of place to hide away when she needed it. The residence in the Ukraine it was the room with the piano, in France it was the small garden in the back. In Italy it was a little corner in a stairwell, a cool marble bench that no one ever noticed. Matthew noticed it; they used to skip classes with John and sit there instead.

She took a long drag from the cigarette and laid back in the grass, staring up at the cloudless blue sky peeking through the branches of the tree shading her overhead. The melancholy pressure in her chest seemed out of place against the cheerful color around her, but at the same time it was almost nice to wallow in the sadness prickling down to the fingertips.

The cigarette tasted slightly stale. It was an old pack, hidden for too long from a mother who wasn't going to bother looking. She'd need to find a way to sneak more cigarettes without the other kids finding out. Most likely they'd have something to say about her habit.

John smoked too. He'd given her her first cigarette, letting her take a puff off his and trying not to laugh when she coughed and spluttered. Matthew didn't like it when they smoked though. He complained about the smell that clung to their clothes, how they were bound to get in trouble for it.

She picked up her phone and tapped on the messaging app again. There wasn't any signal this far out, but that was probably for the best. Keep her from making stupid decisions while she was feeling unusually vulnerable.

She dropped her phone back in the grass beside her and took another long drag. The shade was pleasant, and the water cooled the air even though there wasn't a breeze. Maybe some time by herself would fix her unsteadiness.

* * *

Derek shifted his weight, chugging from his water bottle. It spilled over his chin and he swiped at it with the back of his hand; it dried down almost instantly.

"God, it's hot as balls out here," Thornton complained, pulling at his shirt. His face was already so red that his freckles had disappeared; he was almost the same color as his hair.

"This is gonna be a rough practice," Maclain said. "Everybody better keep drinking water, I don't want anybody keeling over."

Derek chewed on the inside of his cheek. If he was honest, he had to admit that he was secretly dreading this practice. Three hours running around in the sun was going to be exhausting, even if he kept drinking water.

"Hey, where's the soccer girls going?" somebody said, pointing back up towards the gym. The girls' soccer team trailed back from their field towards the locker rooms in a straggling line. "Maybe they got their practice canceled. Lucky."

"Maybe we'll be lucky too," Willis said. "See the coaches down field?"

Derek squinted. He could see the football coaches talking to the cheer coaches. The cheerleaders were all stretching, identical pinpoints of white tank tops and navy blue shorts and ponytails tied with gold bows, but usually at this point Alexa would already be running them through drills.

"Oh, shit," Thornton said. "God, I hope they cancel us."

Derek drained his water bottle dry, keeping his eye on the coaches, and they started making their way back towards the gathered football team. Lamb crossed his fingers. "Please cancel it, please cancel it, please cancel it," he mumbled under his breath.

"All right, boys, bad news," the head coach called. "It's too damn hot for practice today. All sports practices are canceled for this afternoon, so just...go, enjoy your afternoon, stay hydrated, don't do anything stupid."

Cheers erupted over the team, most of them immediately flopping down to sit in the grass. Derek cheered too, but he was already calculating what he could do instead. He was making such good progress, he didn't want to just take the day off.

"Hey, Morgan," Coach Buford called. "Come over here."

He jogged over, holding on tight to his empty water bottle. "Yeah, Coach?" he said.

"Since you've got some free time this afternoon now, what would you say to some extra weight training?" Buford asked. "You've already improved so much since the season began, I'd like to see what exactly you're capable of. I can probably show you a few things that can help you out."

"That'd be great!" Derek said. "Thanks, Coach. I'd appreciate that a lot."

Coach Buford smiled at him. "No problem, Morgan," he said.

* * *

JJ waited until her last teammate left the locker room before grabbing up her bag and heading down the hall. She hadn't really explored much of the building outside of the gym during class or practice; there was a distinct chance of ending up in trouble if she caught wandering, but that was a risk she was willing to take.

She explored the dim, quiet halls; the fluorescent lights were turned off and the air was cold with the AC pumping. There was a lot more to the gym than she expected- there was a pool in the building, which came as a total surprise- and rooms with weights and cardio equipment.

The door to the dance studio was unlocked. She crept inside and set down her bag. The voice of every dance teacher echoed in her head, scolding her for wearing her street shoes on the floor, so she toed them off and set them down.

She didn't recognize herself in the mirror. It seemed wrong to be in a dance studio without a leotard and tights and a Balanchine bun. Now her hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a thin elastic headband holding back loose strands; the sides of her bright blue tank top were cut low to show off her floral print sports bra and she wore black Nike shorts like every other girl on the team.

She looked like Rosalyn.

But before she could think about it too much, she realized that her hand had naturally gravitated towards the barre. It was so familiar under her palm, her fingers curling lightly. She slid her socked feet into first position, her muscles remembering the pull and stretch even if her turnout wasn't as strong as it used to be.

There was still a whole playlist of barre music on her phone, leftover from rainy days in their unfinished basement, practicing _rond de jambes_ and _developp_ é _s_ on a square of marley with a PVC pipe barre her dad had made. But she didn't need to turn the music on. She could hear it in her mind, clear as day, the counts ingrained in her, and she sank into a _demi-plié_ , her arms moving of their own accord, and it was like she had never stepped away form the barre in the first place.

* * *

Hotch drummed his fingertips against his thighs. He'd been on his way to meet the other kids in the student union when he'd gotten the text from Haley that her practice was canceled, and did he want to meet at the theater?

Yes. Yes, he did. He was stupidly nervous, but he did.

He waited on the steps of the theater, his blazer draped over his arm and his phone clutched in his hand just in case she called or texted him again. There was always a chance she could change her mind.

But he spotted her walking towards him, still in her practice clothes with her cheer bag over her shoulder. "Hey!" she said cheerfully, jogging up the stairs. "They canceled practice! What a relief, honestly."

"Yeah, it's way too hot," he said.

She slipped around him and opened the door to the theater. "Let's get in the air conditioning, then," she said.

He followed her inside. The theater was dark and his steps slowed, but Haley grabbed his hand and led him down to the stage. "We can go to the green room," she said.

"What's a green room?" he asked as she led him backstage.

She laughed. "It's where we all sit when we're waiting to go onstage," she said. She flipped on the lights and dropped her cheer bag on the floor. "Make yourself at home!"

He looked around his new surroundings. The walls were covered in sharpie'd graffiti- signatures and quotes from past performances- and posters from other shows. A wall of mirrors ran along one wall with a countertop underneath, all set up for actors to put on makeup. There a couple of mismatched couches too; Haley plunked down on a particularly overstuffed one and patted the seat beside her. "Come here," she said.

Hotch dropped his phone in his blazer pocket and set his things carefully down on the floor. Haley fiddled with her phone. "So you've seen the movie, right?" she said.

"Uh...yeah, a while ago," he said.

Haley hooked up her phone to a small speaker, then settled back beside Hotch, so close that she was almost leaning against his side. "I think you'll like it a lot," she said.

He swallowed hard. "Uh-huh," he said, but he wasn't paying much attention at all the to the music.

* * *

Spencer sat on a bench in the courtyard, swinging his legs back and forth. He wasn't quite sure who he was waiting for. Usually someone walked with him, but he'd found himself alone after his last class. This was the only time he ever really noticed his lack of a phone. It would be pretty useful if he could text or call one of the other kids, see where they were.

He squinted it up at the clocktower. It wasn't too late, only about three-thirty. It wasn't one of Alex's library days, but Derek and JJ had sports, and if he remembered correctly, Emily and Penelope had debate.

Someone would come for him. He was sure of it. And if no one came in the next few minutes, he'd just head back to Lincoln House. He could change out of his school clothes into some of his new stuff and take a nap with his new pillows and blankets. Maybe get a head start on his homework before dinner.

He was just about to leave when a pretty girl in a practice cheer uniform approached him, the gold ribbon glinting against her long dark hair. "Hey," she said. "You're Spencer Reid, right?"

"Uh-huh," he said warily.

She twisted her fingers together, looking at him through her lashes rather than making eye contact. "You know Alexa Lisbon, right?" she said. "She's out by the fieldhouse. She wants to talk to you."

Spencer tilted his head. He'd never had a single conversation with her. Why would she possible want to talk to him now?

But he could hear Derek's voice in the back of his mind.

_You get a popular kid on your side, everything works out. Hell, all it takes is Alexa Lisbon saying she approves of somebody, they're in for sure._

He slid down from the bench. "Okay," he said. "I'll go talk to her."

He slung his new backpack on his shoulders, and he started walking towards the football field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the angst that's coming.
> 
> Thank you so much for reviewing!! I promise I'm going to catch up on answering comments this week!!


	15. little lion man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of them realized where he was, or what they'd done to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for canon compliant bullying and grooming of a minor

_Tremble for yourself, my man,_   
_You know that you have seen this all before_   
_Tremble, little lion man,_   
_You'll never settle any of your scores_   
_Your grace is wasted in your face,_   
_Your boldness stands alone among the wreck_   
_Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck_

_But it was not your fault but mine_   
_And it was your heart on the line_   
_I really fucked it up this time_   
_Didn't I, my dear?_

-"Little Lion Man" by Mumford and Sons

* * *

He must have blacked out at some point, but he raised his head sharply, jerking back and striking hollow metal. The world swam around him, warm green and acid blue; his vision wouldn't clear but he hazily guessed it was the grass of the football field and the cloudless sky.

A sea surrounded him, half-blurred faces with open mouths baring too many teeth. He blinked, trying to bring his vision back. They were staring at him. He didn't know why.

His muscles burned. He tried to shift his weight, to ease the pain, but he couldn't move. His arms were pulled back in an unnatural angle, his shoulders straining and his elbows aching. A little whimper broke from his throat as he tried to pull himself free. But he couldn't move.

He was tied. He was tied up. Somebody had tied him up.

Rope cut into his thin wrists, tied too tight enough to threaten his circulation. And to his horror he realized the ropes wound around him like a snake, crossing over his chest and his stomach and his hips, all the way down to his knees. His chest heaved.

The bare skin of his back pressed against hot metal, hot enough to burn into him. His chest heaved. He was naked. His school uniform was gone.

Realization crashed into him like a wave, pulling him under, drowning him. They had tricked him to come out here. They had grabbed him, they had stripped him, they had tied him to the goalpost.

He raised his head, his hair falling into his eyes. They were watching them. And they were laughing.

_Why were they laughing at him?_

"Let me go," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please, let me go."

But he knew. He knew they wouldn't let him go that easily.

* * *

JJ gritted her teeth. This used to be so easy. She used to turn double pirouettes easily, sometimes even triples. Why couldn't she land just one?

She tried again, centering herself on the slick floor, watching her form closely in the mirror. Her prep was correct, she knew that, and she could pull herself up into _passé_ without any problem. She just kept falling out of the turn somehow, tilting too far to one side before she could make a proper rotation.

"Dammit," she grumbled under her breath, digging her fingernails into her palms. She pushed her hair back from her face, and as she caught her frustrated reflection, she realized with a start what the problem was.

She'd grown.

She hadn't realized exactly how much taller she'd gotten since the last time she walked into a dance studio, but it was at least two inches, maybe three. And her body had shifted without her knowledge, her legs stronger with muscle after spending so much time running up and down the soccer field. She couldn't force herself to dance the way she used to. She had to adapt instead.

So she tried again, pulling herself up into _passé_ again, using the clock on the opposite wall to help her spot. This time was a little more successful- she almost made it all the way around without falling out of the turn, her feet falling heavily into an unsteady fourth position. It wasn't perfect, but it was better.

And Jennifer Jareau was stubborn to a fault, had always been stubborn to a fault, and so she kept going, kept trying, until she made a full rotation and finally stuck her landing.

"Yes!" she cheered, her voice a little too loud in the quiet studio. "Yes, yes, yes!"

She tried it again, and made it again, and her heart skipped beats. She could still do this. She hadn't lost it. It was still a part of her.

* * *

"Watch your arm," Coach Buford warned, tapping his right bicep. "You're getting a little sloppy, you've got to keep in control."

"Sorry," Derek said, letting go of the handles. He'd always been a little intimidated by the fancy weights room at St. Thaddeus, and the chest press machine was a lot more intense than he'd been expecting. "I usually just use free weights, I'm not used to this kind of stuff."

Coach Buford laughed, not unkindly. "Hey, don't worry about that," he said. "Everybody had to start somewhere, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Derek said. He stretched out his arms, feeling the pull in his muscles. "Thanks for taking the time to help me. I know you're pretty busy."

"This is what I'm here for," Coach Buford said. He sat down across from him, his elbows resting on his thighs as he leaned towards him. "My whole job is helping my players. Especially the ones with potential."

His stomach flipflopped at the unexpected praise. "You really think I have potential?" he asked.

Coach Buford smiled at him. "Absolutely," he said. He reached over and squeezed Derek's knee. "You know I fought to get your place on the team, right? They were a little unsure about you, you know, you're still so young. Less experienced. But you've been proving me right. The rest of the coaching team is pretty impressed with you, Derek Morgan."

He ducked his head. "I've wanted to play football my whole life," he said. "My dad used to coach me, brought me to games whenever he could."

"Is he going to come see one of your games this year?" Coach Buford asked. Derek hesitated, trying to form an answer. It never got easier to explain. But his coach seemed to catch on. "When did you lose your dad?"

"I was ten," he said. "He was a police officer, and it, uh...robbery gone wrong, basically."

"Sorry to hear that, Morgan," Coach Buford said. "I'm sure he was a good man. But I hope you know you can come to talk to me. You know, man to man."

Derek offered him a smile. "Thanks, Coach," he said. "I appreciate that a lot."

* * *

Hotch sat stiffly on the couch. He didn't know what to do with his hands. What did he usually do with his hands when he sat on a couch? Not that he usually sat next to pretty girls on couches very often. Not that the girls he hung out with weren't pretty- but Penelope and JJ were so young, and Alex was practically a sister, and Emily...well, he was always either a little irritated or a little scared of Emily.

Haley curled up next to him, her slender legs tucked up underneath her, smiling to herself as she listened to the music. He could catch the scent of her perfume- strawberries and peaches and something light and floral that he couldn't quite place- and her hand was nearly resting on his thigh.

At this point he'd been silent for two and a half songs, and he felt like he had to say something. He cleared his throat. "This, uh...this is pretty nice," he said.

"Oh, yeah, it's one of my favorite shows," Haley said. "I'd kill to play Julia, but I'm sure it'll go to a senior, sophomores don't get leads."

"I'm sure you'd be great, though," he said. "Would they really not cast you just because you're not a senior?"

She laughed. "That's the way it works," she said. "Theatre's super competitive for girls. I'm sure you could walk into the audition room and get a part, but us girls have to fight."

His cheeks reddened. "I don't think so," he said.

She leaned her elbow on the back of the couch and leaned her chin in her hand, watching him intently. "Why?" she asked.

He wasn't sure how to answer. "I'm, uh...I'm not that great of a performer," he said. "Never really performed, actually."

"Why'd you join theatre club, then?" she asked.

His mouth went dry. "I, um...needed an extracurricular for my college applications," he said. That wasn't a _complete_ lie. Just mostly. "And besides...Penelope wanted me to join, and she's pretty persuasive."

Haley laughed. "Yeah, I get that vibe," she said. "Well, I'm glad you joined, no matter what the reason was."

* * *

There was absolutely no need to make them come here in person for this meeting. James glanced down at his watch and bit back a sigh. At this rate, they wouldn't be out until almost dinner.

Dave sat at his left, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tipped forward. Almost as if he was-

Dave let out a gravely snore, and James bit back a laugh. That had always been one of Dave's special skills, being able to fall asleep anywhere, at any time. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen asleep during school, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

He knew this sort of thing didn't worry Dave much, anyway. Various teachers and counselors and professionals were lecturing them about college applications and scholarship deadlines, and that was something that he didn't have to think about.

James glanced over at Alex on his right. She was listening intently, writing down information in a spiral-bound notebook. During their freshman year she'd developed her own kind of shorthand, and now she was writing in it without thinking, the black ink from her favorite Staedtler pen smooth and dark across the page. Today her hair was drawn back with a black satin ribbon, soft copper strands falling over her shoulders and catching the light in gold streaks from the stained glass windows of the chapel. She frowned at something the speaker said, tapping her pen absently against her pointed chin and leaving a small black mark like a freckle.

Sometimes he wondered if she knew she was beautiful. He had a feeling she didn't, and he didn't know how to tell her.

Dave was right, though. He needed to figure out how to ask her out. Doubtless she had all sorts of plans in mind- schools to attend and degrees to gather and countries to visit. Once they graduated, she'd be too busy and accomplished to notice him. They'd be Facebook friends and run into each other at their school reunions, and that would be all.

Alex slid her notebook towards him, nudging the corner into his knee. He blinked out of his reverie and squinted at the page.

_Are you okay? You look sad._

She held out her pen; he took it and wrote an answer back.

_I'm fine, just thinking :)_

A smiley face. He could have drawn a heart, or better yet, nothing at all, and he drew a damn smiley face.

He scribbled another note.

_Dave's snoring_

Alex leaned around him to get a better look at Dave, her hair brushing against his arm, and bit back a laugh. She shook her head, and all he could do was smile at her since he couldn't think of anything interesting to say.

* * *

Penelope jiggled her leg anxiously. She and Emily were supposed to present their debate topic, but Emily was still nowhere to be seen. Although, to be quite honest, the odds weren't great that Emily had gotten any work done in the first place.

She bit back a sigh. JJ had told her that she'd eventually regret signing up for so many clubs. And she did. She really did. She was exhausted, running around from club to club, preparing for multiple projects and trying to keep her schedule straight, and somehow get all of her homework done too. And she didn't even like most of the stuff she was spending all this time on. Really, if she could just keep ukulele and theatre, she'd be absolutely happy.

She glanced at Strauss out of the corner of her eye. The English teacher was famous for being a hardass- grading too harshly, sticking exactly to deadlines for homework and projects, watching her classes like a hawk in search of any refractions. And she wasn't any more relaxed as a club supervisor. She made Penelope unspeakably nervous. Like, about to break into hives nervous. If she'd had any idea that she'd have to deal with Strauss after school when she didn't actually need to, she would have run in the opposite direction. And she didn't even like running.

Penelope tapped her hot pink felt tip pen on her desk. She wasn't paying even the slightest bit of attention to the group currently presenting, and that was _definitely_ going to come back and bite her in the ass when they had to give feedback. But she was sure that Emily was going to walk through the door any minute now. Except...they were already half an hour into the meeting, and thirty minutes was a lot of minutes to wait.

Maybe she could slip her phone out and text her really quickly. She was pretty good at texting from inside her sleeve or under her desk, and with Strauss watching the current presentation, maybe she would be distracted enough to get away with-

"Miss Garcia? Is that your phone I see?"

Penelope nearly dropped it. The rest of the club members were staring at her, and Strauss fixed her with a withering look from the across the room. "I'm sorry, Ms. Strauss," she said, her voice coming out in a nervous squeak.

Strauss beckoned her across the room, and Penelope dragged herself to her desk. "Power it down," Strauss said, holding out her hand. "I'll take care of this for now."

Reluctantly Penelope turned it off and placed it in Strauss's palm. Emily had better have a _really_ good reason for ditching, because she definitely owed her one now.

* * *

Emily leaned back against a tree, the bark rough through the thin fabric of her uniform shirt. Another cigarette dangled from her fingers. She'd lost count of how many she'd smoked, initially riding the high of the broken rules and the bright sting of nicotine, but now she had a headache pulsing at her temples and a raw soreness scratching at the back of her throat. Maybe she'd overdone it a little bit.

She took another light drag and exhaled slowly, then stubbed out the cigarette in the dirt. The afternoon sun was annoyingly bright and sweat clustered at the nape of her neck. Lazily she dug around in her pocket for a hair tie and pulled her hair into a sloppy knot at the crown of her head, then reached for the laces of her boots.

The coolness of the water was almost a shock to her system as she waded into the creek, the rocks at the bottom smooth and unbalanced under her bare feet. "Shit," she sighed, her voice almost too loud in the soft thick silence.

She wandered aimlessly in the cold water, letting her thoughts filter away like the silt she kicked up into the creek's surface. Her gaze fell towards the electric fence half hidden in the trees, and for a brief heady moment she thought about what it might be like to break through the fence and find herself in the woods on the other side of the water.

She shook her head. It was silly. She was being stupid. And there wasn't any reason for her to feel like this anyway.

 _Suck it up,_ she thought, and she kicked at the placid surface of the creek, the resistance of the water slowing her down and turning up the frustration burning under her skin.

* * *

It was so hot.

The ropes held him fast, digging into his soft skin, rubbing raw into his wrists and ankles, ripping at his chest and stomach and thighs. The sun-warmed metal of the goalpost pressed into his back; he was tied too tight to lean away and earn himself relief from the bite.

"Please, just let me go," he pleaded again, but no one was listening. The bigger kids grouped around him in clumps, their faces blurring in his vision, their conversations a dull roar in his ears. "Please, I just wanna go. I wanna go home."

He didn't know what home he was talking about, not exactly. The heat that dried out his mouth and seared his skin was pressing into his mind, mixing up his thoughts, tangling up his memories. Maybe home was a shabby stucco house with newspapers over the windows and garbage heaped on the floors, maybe home was the public school library where he found refuge hiding behind shelves and under tables with a book in his hands. Maybe home was wherever Hotch and Alex and James and other kids were, somewhere safe and peaceful and quiet.

He didn't know where home was, but anywhere was better than here.

"I wanna go home," he whimpered, and he didn't care that he sounded pathetic, that he sounded like a child, he _was_ a child, and they were older than him, and bigger than him, and stronger than him.

"Please, get me down," he begged. "Just let me go."

A headache pulsed at his temples. He tried pulling at the ropes and cried out when his shoulder pulled in an unnatural angle. Struggling did him no good. There wasn't any point to it.

"Please," he sobbed, but he couldn't cry, his eyes were bone dry. "Please, please, I'm sorry, please, somebody get me down…"

The edges of his vision clouded like fog rolling in before a storm. His chin dropped, the world tilting and spinning around him like an out-of-control carnival ride.

"Make it stop," he whispered. "Make it stop, make it stop…"

He raised his head, the weight almost too much for him to bear. There were fewer gawkers standing around him now, he realized, and he watched as they began to turn away as they got tired of watching, onlookers to his misery until they got bored.

Terrified rage surged in his chest. "Why won't you help me?" he screamed, a sudden burst of energy coursing cold in his blood. One of them glanced back, but no one stopped.

"Why won't you help me?" he shrieked again, his lungs constricting so tight he couldn't breathe. "Help me!"

But they continued their retreat, wandering away from him. His muscles ached, his body held upright only by the tight ropes cutting off his circulation, and the sudden adrenaline left his body like water spiraling down a drain, leaving him weak and shaken and exhausted.

"Help me!" he shouted, his voice high pitched and tight, and the sound echoed across the empty field. He was alone, and the afternoon sun scorched his skin, and he couldn't move.

He was so small, swallowed up in the vast expanse of soft green grass and cloudless blue sky, and his little body couldn't hold the heartbreak, and all he could do was scream, wordless and wild, even if no one could hear him.

* * *

JJ lost her balance as she tried to sit down on the studio floor, her self-conscious little giggle bouncing off the walls. Her legs ached pleasantly in a way they hadn't in a very long time. Soccer used her muscles differently, and while her body remembered those well-trained forms she thought she'd forgotten, she wasn't used to it anymore.

She slid her soccer sneakers back on and tied up the laces, then picked up her bag. The door creaked as she stepped back into the hallway, and she lingered for a moment to look back at the empty studio. She almost didn't want to leave. For the first time in a long, long time she felt content.

But it was late- already past five- and she was starving. The others might've already headed over to the dining hall for dinner; she was used to them starting without her on the nights that practice ran late. Still, she probably had enough time to shower before she headed over there.

She wended her way through the maze of the gym hallways, her steps slow and leisurely. Just as she was wondering if she might be the only person in the entire building, the door to the weights room opened and she jumped back, narrowly avoiding getting smacked.

"Sorry, Jayje!" Derek said. The neck of his gray tee shirt was dark with sweat, but he was beaming. "I didn't know you were here. Did you have soccer practice?"

"No, it got canceled," she said. "Didn't you have football?"

"Also canceled," he said. He tossed the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "But Coach Buford was super nice, he gave me a private training session."

"Teacher's pet," she teased, elbowing him lightly.

He rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on, JJ, that's not me," he said. "Coach just sees a lot of potential in me, that's all."

He pushed the gym doors open and held them out for her. She winced at the sudden rush of heat. "Jesus, I'm glad they canceled practice," she said.

"Yeah, there's no way we could have survived running around out here," Derek said. "And if they made us football players practice in full gear? Nope, they'd be calling ambulances left and right with all of us passing out."

They started down the path towards the rest of campus. "I'm so hungry," she said happily. "Do you think everyone else is-"

She paused, but Derek kept walking. For a moment she stood there, frowning, but she darted forward and caught his arm. "Wait a minute," she said. "Do you hear that?"

He stopped and tilted his head to the side. "Yeah," he said slowly. "What do you think it is?"

"I don't know, but it's coming from the football field," she said. "We should go check it out."

"I don't know," he began, but she was already gone, heading down the hill towards the field, her soccer bag bumping against the backs of her knees.

* * *

"JJ, slow down," Derek complained. "I just spent like two and a half hours working out, my legs are dead." She didn't seem to hear him; she was already pretty far down the path. "JJ, come on! It's probably just an animal or something. You know there's woods all over the place, something probably just wandered too far."

There definitely was something down in the field. The sound grew louder the farther they walked- a sharp, keening wail, rhythmic and desperate. He'd heard somewhere that foxes could sound like humans, maybe one got trapped somewhere.

JJ was far ahead of him now, past the field house, almost to the thirty yard line. "JJ, come on," he called.

His foot caught on something and he looked down in surprise. It was a backpack, a purple one, the stitching solid and the fabric unfaded. It looked new, and Derek's stomach slowly twisted.

"JJ," he called again.

He looked up to see her standing on the twenty-yard-line, still as a little statue. Her bag had slid from her shoulder and fallen to the ground.

"Jay-" he started to shout, but he could see what she was staring at, and before he fully understood what was happening he broke into a run, pushing past JJ, dropping to his knees in the soft turf.

Spencer was tied to the goalpost. His soft skin was burned bright red in the sun and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. And he was screaming with all the strength left in his little body, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath, his ribs painfully visible with every sob.

"What happened?" Derek demanded. "Spencer, what happened? Who did this?"

Spencer sobbed, straining against the ropes lashing him in place. "They won't let me go," he wailed. "They won't, they won't…"

"Slow down, pretty boy, slow down," Derek said. "Take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?"

Spencer tried to obey, but the air caught in his lungs and broke from him in a gagging cough. Derek didn't know if he could touch him. His hand wavered, and instead he looked back over his shoulder.

JJ was still, her eyes round and too bright in her pale face, her fingers trembling. "JJ, do something!" he demanded. "You can't just stand there!"

All the color had drained from her face, and still she didn't move. "For fuck's sake, JJ, do something!" he shouted. "Call Hotch, call somebody! Go get help!"

JJ blinked slowly, like she was sleepwalking, and fumbled for her soccer bag, her hands visibly shaking as she pulled the zipper and dug around for her phone. Derek turned his attention back to the terrified child tied to the pole. "It's okay, pretty boy, JJ's calling for help," he said. "Everything's gonna be okay, I swear."

Spencer only cried harder, but there were no tears on his cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot, the vessels popped from the effort of screaming, and Derek rocked back on his heels. He'd never felt so young or so helpless in his life.

* * *

Hotch felt his shoulders tensing up again. _Relax, relax, relax,_ he told himself sternly. Haley was holding her phone up between them so he could see the screen; they'd long since finished listening to the music and she was showing him clips of the show. She was so excited, her cheeks pink and her voice bright and animated. It was almost dinner time, and he kind of wanted to go meet up with the others in the dining hall...but he couldn't possibly leave her.

He frowned and tilted his head, listening intently. Haley shifted beside him. She was so close to him that her cheek nearly rested on his shoulder. And now he didn't dare move, and risk pushing her away. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said. "I thought I heard my phone, but...I guess not." He cleared his throat. "So...which song is this?"

Alex bit back a frustrated sigh. They'd been told the meeting would probably run till five, but it was _definitely_ past that. For a moment she debated switching on her phone to check the time, but after suffering this so long, she didn't dare break the rules at the eleventh hour.

She tucked her fingers in the cuff of James's shirtsleeve and tugged his arm towards her. He jumped. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

She pushed the cuff back and checked his watch- almost five-thirty. "Thanks," she whispered back, setting his arm back down.

He half laughed. "You have a little.." he said, gesturing towards her chin.

She frowned. "What?"

He gestured towards her face. "Your pen, you got a little ink right there," he said.

She wrinkled her nose and rubbed at her cheek. James shook his head, smiling, and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her chin. "Got it," he whispered.

"Thanks," she said, and when she met his gaze her heart squeezed unexpectedly. There was something so soft in his eyes when he looked at her, but she didn't know what the hell that was supposed to mean.

* * *

At this point, Penelope was sure that the embarrassed red flush on her cheeks was going to be permanent. The whole club had watched her get caught with her phone out, saw Strauss scold her and take it away, and then witnessed her completely bombing her presentation. The humiliation made her vaguely nauseated.

Strauss dismissed them without acknowledging that she'd kept them late; it was a quarter till six and doubtless the dining hall was already filling up. Penelope hung back, waiting for the rest of the students to file out into the hallway, and sidled up to Strauss's desk.

Strauss didn't look up from her computer. "May I help you, Miss Garcia?" she asked.

Penelope cleared her throat. "I would like to apologize for my presentation, and for texting, and may I please have my phone back?" she asked.

Strauss clicked on an email. "I accept your apology," she said. "I understand that your presentation was a bit more difficult without Miss Prentiss to assist you." She started typing out a reply. "Unfortunately, I hold the clubs I supervise to the same standards I hold my classes. So you may pick up your phone tomorrow afternoon, after the last bell."

Penelope's jaw dropped open. "But I need it!" she protested. "My phone is my life, I can't function without it, I...uh...tonight is the night I have a scheduled phone call with my grandparents, they'll think something's wrong!"

Strauss looked up at her over her glasses. "There's a payphone on campus," she said. "No need for your grandparents to worry. I will see you tomorrow afternoon, after the last bell, and not a minute sooner." She turned back to her email, but then paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. "That will be all."

"Thank you, Ms. Strauss," Penelope said through gritted teeth. She left the classroom and closed the door behind her, and as soon as it was safe she stamped her feet in a silent frustrated temper tantrum.

* * *

Emily yawned. She'd given herself a headache from smoking too much in the summer heat, and she was dreading the trek back to campus. But she was hungry now, and after spending her so much time outside, she really wanted to take a shower.

The melancholy that had weighed so heavily on her shoulders had begun to lift a little bit. Maybe things weren't so bad. At least for today. She sat up, brushing grass off her shoulders and reaching for her knee socks. Alex would give her that disapproving mom look if she tracked grass and leaves into their room. And she still hadn't cleaned up her mess after trashing her side of the room before the party. She could probably do something nice for Alex and fix the chaos.

She slid on her boots and tied up the laces, then reached for her phone. She still didn't have any service, but it was almost six, and-

"Oh, shit," she said aloud. "I forgot. Oh, Penelope's going to kill me."

She pushed herself up to her feet and sighed. Now she needed to plan some kind of thing to make it up to her. At least she knew what sorts of things Penelope liked- anything pink and glittery would win her approval back.

* * *

JJ's hands shook, her phone threatening to slip from her grip. The sun was threatening to go down, the edges of the horizon scarlet and orange, and all she could hear was Spencer sobbing. She couldn't look at him. If she looked at him, she would freeze again, and she couldn't freeze, not now.

She kept cycling through phone numbers, trying everything. Alex. James. Dave. Hotch. Penelope. Emily. No one was picking up. No one was answering. And Spencer was crying, harsh gasps ripping from his throat, and she couldn't bear to look at him.

"Derek, no one's answering," she said, her voice small and wobbly and lost, and she despised herself for it.

"Keep trying!" he barked. "Somebody has to answer!"

So she tried again, repeating the cycle over and over again, pressing the number and listening to the handful of rings, and then the crackle of static and the tinny sound of a voicemail message.

She kept trying. It was all she could do.

* * *

Derek tore at the ropes, frustrated tears smarting behind his eyes. He couldn't get it. He couldn't untie the ropes.

Whoever had tied Spencer up had gone the extra mile- tying tight around his ankles and weaving around his skinny legs, lashing his wrists together so they were pinned behind him. And it wasn't just one rope, it was multiple, old ropes stolen from the fieldhouse and woven around Spencer like overlapping spiderwebs, knots catching against his hips and his ribs and his chest.

Spencer was still crying, but exhaustion was getting the better of him. His sobbing had faded into a thin raspy wail, spiraling tight and high through his teeth. Derek watched his eyes start to roll back in his head.

"Hey, hey, pretty boy, stay with me," he coaxed. He let go of the knots long enough to touch Spencer's face, forcing him to look at him. "We're gonna get you down. You're gonna be safe. I swear."

Spencer didn't seem to hear him. Derek turned back to the knots, pulling and tugging and digging his fingertips into the nylon fibers till he was sure they were about to start to bleed, and he started to panic because _he couldn't get them fucking untied._

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm sorry, pretty boy, I'm trying, I swear. I swear to god."

He yanked hard, trying to get even the smallest bit of slack, but he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried.

* * *

Haley tucked her long legs underneath her and leaned a little closer to Aaron. She was running out of reasons to keep him, but oh, how she wanted him to stay. He sat close to her but not too close, his shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms and his dark hair a little ruffled over his forehead. He'd spent the whole afternoon listening to her and asking questions, still clearly a little nervous around her. She had been hoping this would be the perfect situation to turn this into a conversation, maybe get to know him a little better, but she had no idea how to do that.

She'd gone on dates with a handful of St. Thaddeus boys, even gone out with a couple long enough to consider them a boyfriend. Most of them were football players, or at least basketball. They were fine, she supposed. It was just sort of expected of her to have a guy with her for cheer events, like all the other girls on the squad.

Aaron was different. He was so solemn all the time, his mouth pulled down into a perpetual absent frown. She'd noticed him the year before, in passing. He was cute, she supposed, but he'd be cuter if he smiled.

It wasn't until she ran into him at the theatre club signups that she saw a different side of him- there was a sweetness hiding under all the seriousness, something kind and vulnerable. He'd blushed pink around her, too shy to speak without stammering.

She wasn't exactly sure when she realized she had a crush on him, but she was sure of it now. She liked Aaron Hotchner, even if the other girls on the squad thought she was crazy. She liked him a lot.

Haley shivered, and Aaron looked over at her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, it's just a little cold," she said. She was wearing a crop top and shorts- practical for cheer practice, not great for hanging out in the basement of a theater. "I'll live."

Hotch frowned. "Hold on," he said, pushing himself up from the old couch. He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a dark blue hoodie, tipping the bag over in the process. "Here, you can borrow this if you'd like it."

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him, and that pink nervous flush showed up on his face again. She slid her arms through the sleeves. The soft fabric was well worn and soft, and smelled like his soap, clean and spicy.

"Oh god," he said. "I, uh...sorry, I wear that hoodie all the time, I didn't realize how ratty it is…"

"It's fine," she said, grinning at him as she zipped it up. "It's really warm."

He shifted his weight. "Let me at least get the loose strings off," he said. He scanned the dressing room table and picked up a pair of scissors from a bin of mismatched sewing supplies. She held out her arms, and he delicately trimmed a couple of threads off the wrists, his hand balancing her forearm gingerly as if he was a little nervous to be that close to her.

"So, do you want to maybe-" she started to say.

But Aaron's phone had slid free of his bag and it was vibrating noisily, the screen lighting up. "Sorry," he said, juggling the scissors in one hand and his phone in the other. "I should probably answer that."

Haley tugged the cuffs of Aaron's hoodie into place. Her heart skipped a beat. She really, _really_ liked this boy.

"JJ...Jay... _Jayje,_ I need you to calm down," Aaron said into the phone. "I can't understand you. What's wrong? What-" She watched him go completely pale, his jaw tightening, and he fumbled for his backpack one-handed, dropping the scissors inside. "I'm on my way. Tell him I'm coming, okay?"

He dropped his phone in his pocket. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

Aaron threw his backpack on his shoulder. "I have to go," he said. "I'm sorry, Haley, but I have to go."

He bolted out of the room, and Haley listened to his footsteps die away as he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man. please don't kill me for this cliffhanger.
> 
> all the comfort is coming in the next chapter!! SO much comfort!! ALL the comfort!! 
> 
> special thanks and lots of love to Maddy and Brenna for being my test audience for this chapter!! (Maddy already has a meme prepared and I'm so excited to post it.)


	16. tomorrow will be kinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have to pick up the pieces, but they're still just kids too

_Today I've cried a many tear_   
_And pain is in my heart_   
_Around me lies a somber scene_   
_I don't know where to start_   
_But I feel warmth on my skin_   
_The stars have all aligned_   
_The wind has blown, but now I know_   
_That tomorrow will be kinder_

_Tomorrow will be kinder_   
_I know, I've seen it before_   
_A brighter day is coming my way_   
_Yes, tomorrow will be kinder_

_\--_ "Tomorrow Will Be Kinder" by the Secret Sisters

* * *

His fingertips were scraped raw, but he kept pulling at the ropes. He'd managed to get a little bit of slack on the ropes tying Spencer's wrists in place, but not enough to pull him free. At least Spencer's sobbing had died down, his breath catching in thready gasps, but he slumped forward, his chin tilted into his chest.

"I'm trying, I promise, I'm trying," Derek repeated. "It's gonna be okay. Hotch is coming, he's gonna fix it. It'll be okay." Spencer didn't give any sign that he could hear him, but he kept talking, if only to keep himself from losing it completely. They'd given him all the water they had left over from their practices, even though it was tepid and stale, and it wasn't enough.

Derek glanced back over his shoulder at JJ. She knelt in the grass, Spencer's clothes bundled neatly in her arms, his shoes and backpack placed beside her. Her eyes stayed downcast, and Derek could see the late afternoon light catching the tear tracks on her cheeks.

He kept pulling, his arms aching with effort, his heart beating so fast it hurt. Tears burned behind his eyes. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He was a fifteen-year-old kid, he wasn't equipped to handle this.

"It'll be okay, pretty boy," he said again, but his voice cracked and betrayed him. He was afraid to touch him, afraid to look at him. Instead he focused on the ropes binding Spencer's thin wrists, because if he could fix at least _one_ damn thing, it would be something.

He jumped as Hotch threw his backpack into the grass and dropped to his knees beside him, his hair tousled and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. "What happened?" he demanded, cupping Spencer's face in his hands.

"He can't talk, he's just been crying," Derek said, relief flooding cool in his veins. "He's got to have been out here for hours. And I can't- I can't get the ropes untied, I've been trying, I swear-"

Hotch rubbed his thumb over Spencer's cheek, his soft skin briefly fading white before sinking back to red. "He's cold," he said, half to himself. "Derek, there's scissors in my backpack." He scrambled to obey, yanking the zipper open and digging around through Hotch's textbooks and folders. "Hold him up, keep him steady."

Derek handed him the scissors and sat down in front of Spencer. He couldn't avoid looking at him now, and it hurt. Spencer's hazel eyes were dull and half lidded; his sweat-drenched hair was plastered against his forehead and temples and his skin was reddened with sunburn.

Hotch sawed away the ropes with the dull scissors, pulling the frayed edges as they began to give way. He worked through them, fast but methodical, throwing them aside as they unraveled. Spencer's hands fell free first, then his arms, and then the ropes holding his shoulders and chest in place fell away. He sank forward, his body limp, and Derek braced him against his shoulder as Hotch kept working.

"It's okay, pretty boy, you're okay, I told you Hotch would get you down," he kept repeating. He didn't know if it was safe to touch him. "Everything's going to be okay now."

Hotch cut the last ropes binding Spencer's legs and ankles and his knees buckled, his body collapsing without the ropes pinning him upright. Derek barely caught him before he hit the turf, his limp dead weight surprisingly heavy against his chest.

Hotch tossed the scissors aside and knelt down beside them, pulling Spencer into his arms. "I've got you, I've got you," he said. Spencer curled into his chest, a sob breaking from his throat, and Hotch rocked him gently, holding him tight. Derek looked down at the grass, the individual blades blurring into a solid mass.

JJ approached them cautiously, silently holding out his clothes. After a moment Hotch let go of Spencer and accepted them, then helped him get dressed again, leaving his cardigan and tie in the grass. "I'm going to take him to the infirmary," he said. "I need you to take JJ back to Lincoln House. Keep an eye on her, and keep trying to call the others."

Derek nodded. Hotch stood up, lifting Spencer easily in his arms. "You think he's gonna be okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Hotch said, in a terse voice that Derek recognized as _do not question me on this_. Spencer's cheek pressed against his shoulder, his arms limp and his hands dangling at his sides. "It might take a while, but he's going to be okay."

Derek dragged his hands over his face as Hotch walked away. Some of the stress had drained away from his shoulders, but now blank uncertainty stretched in front of him. Sure, Hotch could tell him that Spencer was going to be okay, but that could mean anything.

He unfolded his legs and stood up, picking up his football bag first, then Hotch's backpack. The rope and the scissors he left behind. He didn't want to touch them.

"Come on, Jayje," he said. "Let's get the hell out of here." JJ was silent. She held Spencer's shoes in her hands. "JJ. Come on, pretty girl."

"I still have his shoes," she said, soft and numb.

Derek pried them out of her hands and dropped them in Hotch's backpack, then picked up the discarded tie and blazer too. "Can you carry his backpack?" he asked gently. She nodded, slinging it over her shoulder.

He kept his steps slow as JJ trailed almost behind him. It was dinner time, but he couldn't eat if somebody paid him. He just wanted to make it back to Lincoln House, throw his shit on the floor, just sit and stare at the wall for a while.

"Derek! JJ!" Penelope called as they reached the courtyard. "Guys, where have you been? I've been stuck in debate club, it ran _so_ over time, and Strauss took away my phone! I can't have it till tomorrow!" She stopped. "Why do you have Spencer's backpack? Where is he?"

JJ looked up at Derek in a panic. He shifted his weight. "Baby girl...Spencer…"

His voice trailed off. How was he supposed to explain this? His mouth went bone dry. Penelope stared at him, eyes wide, and he couldn't speak. He couldn't tell her this.

JJ touched his arm gently, a tiny supportive gesture. "They tied Spencer to the goalpost, and they left him there," Derek said softly. "For hours."

Penelope's mouth dropped open. "But he's okay, right?" she said.

"Hotch is taking him to the infirmary," he said. "He told us to go back to Lincoln House and wait."

Penelope looked from one to the other. "But he's okay?" she pressed, and Derek couldn't answer her.

* * *

Hotch's arms ached as he cradled Spencer against his chest. He wasn't heavy- if anything, he hadn't realized exactly how thin he was until he saw him tied to the post- but it was a long walk across campus to the infirmary, and the child was dead weight in his arms.

He looked down anxiously at Spencer's face. His nose and cheekbones were burned red from the sun and his long lashes were dark against his cheeks. Hotch couldn't tell if he was conscious or not; he seemed to be drifting in and out, exhaustion pulling him down deep.

"You're okay, kiddo," he said softly, not even sure if Spencer was listening to him. "We'll fix it. I swear."

The school infirmary was not exactly the most homey place on campus. It was placed in an older part of the main building but it stood out like an eyesore, the walls stark white and the floors polished and the lights piercing and fluorescent. Not exactly comforting or reassuring for a sick kid away from their parents.

He stood awkwardly in the small waiting area, adjusting his grip on Spencer. No one was there, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do. But luckily the nurse walked in from the office, a stack of paperwork in her hands. "Hi, honey, what's going on?" she asked.

He wanted to cry. "He...uh…" he started to say, but the words caught in his throat.

The nurse clicked her tongue as she took a better look at Spencer. "Oh, that looks like a nasty sunburn!" she said. "Go ahead and put him down, I'll be there in a second."

Hotch nodded and carried Spencer over to one of the curtained-off cubicles. He set him down carefully, bracing the back of his neck, but Spencer started to rouse as he let go of him. "No, no, no, no…" he mumbled, latching onto the front of Hotch's shirt.

"Hey, calm down, buddy," Hotch said. "You're okay. You're in the infirmary, the nurse is going to take a look at you."

"No!" Spencer wailed, lurching forward and throwing his arms around Hotch's neck. "No, no, I don't...I don't wanna…"

Hotch hugged him cautiously. "I swear you're okay," he soothed, running his hand over Spencer's sweat-dampened hair. "I promise, okay? I promise that if anything goes wrong, I'll get you out of here."

He pried Spencer's fingers away and forced him to lie back down. Spencer whimpered, his hands still reaching forward towards him, but the sudden burst of energy had faded. The nurse walked in and Hotch took a step back as she started poking and prodding at Spencer without preamble.

"I see someone stayed out in the sun too long without sunscreen," she said briskly. Spencer tried to pull away from her and she ignored him. "Seems like some heat exhaustion too. Well, we'll put something on that sunburn and get you hydrated again." She looked up at Hotch. "Thanks for dropping him off. You may go."

Hotch's heart dropped to his shoes. "What?" he stammered.

"Only family can be in here," the nurse said.

"I'm his residential advisor," Hotch protested.

She shook her head. "Sorry, honey, family only," she said. "Thank you for bringing your little friend in. I'll take it from here."

Spencer struggled to sit up and failed. "Hotch, no," he said. "No, no, don't go, don't go."

"Lie back down, honey."

"No!" Spencer shouted, but he'd already screamed his vocal cords raw and his voice came out in a sandpaper shriek. "No, no, no!"

"I'm sorry," Hotch choked out, and the nurse ushered him away, drawing the curtains closed.

* * *

Alex stepped out of the chapel and into the humid late afternoon air. "Oh my god, I thought we'd never get out of there," she sighed, stretching her arms above her head.

"Why's it still so goddamn hot?" Dave complained.

James snorted. "It's not that bad," he said. He dug his phone out of his pocket and switched it back on. "This is just your special skill. You can find something to complain about no matter where we go."

Dave scowled. "No, I don't," he said.

Alex poked him lightly in the arm. "No, I'm siding with James on this one," she teased.

"Yeah, the last time we-" James started to say. "Whoa, I have like...twenty missed calls for JJ. I wonder-" His screen lit up and he answered it. "Hey, what's up?"

"I do not complain about everything," Dave grumbled under his breath.

"Oh, yes, you do," she said. "A king could give you his palace and you'd complain about the decor."

"Why would a king give me his palace?"

Alex rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, she was distracted by James raising his voice over the phone. "Okay, okay, wait, I...what's the context?" he was saying, his mouth drawing down in a frown. "What happened?"

"What's going on?" she whispered, but he just shook his head.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" James said. He stopped dead in his tracks. Alex slowed down, pausing when she realized he wasn't going to follow. "Okay. Okay, and...yeah. Heat exhaustion?"

"James?" she whispered. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, staring intently at the ground, his phone pressed to his ear.

"Okay, that's a good sign," he said. "It'd be bad if she needed to start an IV, or have him sent to the hospital in town, but…" His hand slipped from her wrist to her palm, his strong fingers sliding between hers and gripping tightly. Alex squeezed back, uneasiness growing in her chest. "Okay, yeah. We can take care of him ourselves. He's gonna...yeah, yeah, and he'll probably be pretty nauseous. We'll meet you over at Lincoln in a second." He paused. "Uh-huh. She's with me right now. I'll tell her."

He hung up the phone, his arm dropping to his side. His blue eyes seemed glazed over and faraway, and even though the sun was still shining down hot, her skin felt like ice. "What the hell was that about, James?" Dave asked.

James ignored him and slid his phone into his pocket, then turned towards Alex, his hand still gripping hers tight. "Alex," he said softly. "Something's happened to Spencer."

* * *

Hotch hovered in the lobby, watching around the corner and trying to stay out of the line of sight. He could still hear Spencer crying, thin and weak and exhausted, and it set his teeth on edge.

The nurse left, disappearing back towards the office, and he slipped out as fast as he dared. He pulled back the curtained-off corner. Spencer was curled up on his side in a little ball, tears and snot running down his face, his shoulders still hitching. His shirt was buttoned wrong, and his feet were still bare and dirty from standing in the grass for so long.

"Hey," Hotch whispered, holding onto the curtains a little too tightly.

Spencer rolled over just enough to see him, his eyes widening. "Hotch-"

"Sh, sh, sh," he said. "Stay quiet. I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

He picked Spencer up, careful not to jostle him too much or make any unnecessary noise that might bring the nurse running back into the room. Spencer wrapped his arms around his neck and buried his face in his shoulder. "Be as quiet as you can," Hotch whispered. He felt Spencer nod, and he carried him out of the infirmary. But he felt like he held his breath until they made it all the way back to Lincoln House, the heavy door closing behind them.

* * *

James took the Lincoln House stairs two at a time, Alex right behind him. He was already thinking ahead, trying to organize his thoughts into a plan. But his train of thought kept getting derailed. _How could somebody do this to a little kid?  
_

He burst into the seventh floor common room, slightly out of breath. Hotch paced back and forth, weaving through the mismatched furniture, his hand over his mouth and his hair sticking up at odd angles like he'd been dragging his fingers through it. "Hey," he said, and Hotch's head shot up. "What's going on?"

Hotch dropped his hand. "He's in his room, Derek's sitting with him," he said.

"How did this happen?" Alex demanded.

"I don't know," Hotch said. "Derek and JJ...their practices got canceled, but they were both still in the gym. They heard…" He faltered. "They heard him screaming when they walked out."

"Oh my god," Dave breathed.

"So they just got bored and tied a child to a goalpost and _fucking left him there_?" Alex said through her teeth. Hotch shrugged helplessly, his mouth drawing down.

"How's he doing right now?" James asked.

He could see Hotch struggling to keep his composure, his jaw setting stubbornly. "He's sunburned, really badly," he said. "I think he's got bruises forming. They...they tied him up really tight."

Alex sank down on the arm of the nearest chair, her hands pressed to her cheeks. "Fuck," she whispered. "And the infirmary-"

Hotch gritted his teeth so hard James was afraid for a moment they might crack. "They tried to kick me out," he said. "I wasn't about to leave him there."

"We can take care of him," James said quickly. "And I think he'll feel better if he feels safer, anyway. He's safe with us."

Derek ran into the common room, his face ashen. "Guys, he's throwing up," he said. "I don't know what to do."

Hotch was already halfway down the hall; James caught up to him quickly. Spencer was sitting up in his bed, doubled over, choking and coughing. Hotch froze for a second; James could practically see the thoughts running through his mind as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do first. James slipped past him and sat down on the edge of the bed behind Spencer, bracing his back.

"Breathe, kiddo, breathe," he coaxed. "You're okay. Deep breaths."

He waited patiently, feeling Spencer's shoulders shake under his hand as he heaved again and vomited down the front of his shirt, but eventually he began to calm down, his body going still. "Okay, kiddo," he said. "Better?" Spencer nodded, his eyes half closed.

"This is a heat exhaustion thing, right?" Alex said softly.

"Yeah, nausea's pretty common," James reassured her. He started unbuttoning Spencer's uniform shirt, keeping his movements slow and gentle to keep from startling him. "Can you get him cleaned up?"

"Yeah, of course," Alex said.

James guided Spencer's thin arms out of the sleeves of his shirt. "Is it okay if Alex helps you?" he asked softly.

"Uh-huh," Spencer mumbled. He rubbed his eyes. "I don't feel good."

Alex leaned over him and stroked his hair back from his forehead, then touched the back of her hand to his flushed cheek. "I know, baby," she said.

Spencer turned towards her sluggishly, his eyes widening as he noticed her in the room for the first time. His face crumpled and he reached towards her, raising his arms like he wanted to be held. Alex scooped him up quickly, pressing her hand to the back of his head as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"You can take him to my room," Hotch said. "I've got my own bathroom, it'll be quieter." Alex nodded as she adjusted him in her arms and carried him out of the room.

James sighed heavily. "You ready to get this cleaned up?" he said as he unbuttoned his blazer and tossed it over the back of Derek's desk chair.

"I guess so," Hotch said reluctantly.

They made quick work of it, working silently to set things back to rights. Luckily Hotch had pulled back most of the blankets when he'd put Spencer to bed; his new comforter and his favorite blanket had been spared from the onslaught, but the sheets and pillows weren't quite so lucky.

Once the bed was remade and they'd sanitized the best they could, James took a step back, pushing his sleeves back up over his elbows. "Are you okay taking this stuff down to the laundry room?" he asked. "I'm going to go see if Alex needs a hand."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Hotch said. "Definitely go check on them."

James headed down the hall towards Hotch's room. The door was closed but unlocked, and the bathroom door was still left open. "Hey," he said softly. "You doing okay?"

The bathroom was small, not much larger than a closet, but it was just big enough to hold a shower/tub combo tucked against the wall. Water ran from the faucet, but Alex sat on the floor with Spencer on her lap, her cheek resting lightly against the top of his head, and his arms were tight around her neck. "Yeah," she said. "We'll be okay."

James leaned over and checked the water, making sure it was cool but not too cold, and then sat down on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows on his knees. "Are _you_ okay?" he asked. "You're usually a little more…"

"Squeamish?" she finished for him, sighing heavily.

Spencer roused a little bit, raising his head off her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick and slurred. "I'm sorry, Alex, I didn't mean to."

James could see Alex's heart breaking in real time. "No, no, darling, don't be sorry," she said, leaning his head back against her shoulder. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Absolutely nothing. You hear me?"

Spencer nodded, and James could see his hazel eyes beginning to well up again. He wasn't sure if he was convinced. "Let's get you cleaned up, and we'll get you to bed, okay?" he said. "Hotch wants you to stay in his room for the night."

Spencer's grip tightened on Alex's shirt. "I don't wanna be alone," he begged. His voice was raspy from screaming, his vocal cords scraped raw. "Don't leave me alone, please."

"You won't be alone," Alex promised. "I'll stay with you. Or James, or Hotch. We won't leave you alone."

He seemed to be satisfied with that, at least for the time being, but he still clung desperately to Alex, as if she was the lifeline keeping him from drowning. _It's going to be a rough night, isn't it?_ James thought.

* * *

Emily stomped up the stairs and into the common room. "There you guys are. I'm mad at you," she announced. "All of you."

JJ barely looked at her. "You haven't been answering your phone," she said dully.

"Yeah, I know, I was out of range because this campus's signal sucks, and by the time I got back in range my battery died," she said. "I thought you guys would be at dinner, but nobody was there and I had to eat by myself. Like a loser."

"Emily, now isn't the time," Dave said in a low voice.

"Why?" she complained. "What's so important that got all you guys so distracted?"

She paused. Dave sat on the couch with JJ curled up on one side of him and Penelope on the other; Derek sat in an armchair by himself, his chin resting on his forearms, his face drawn into such tight lines that it seemed like he'd aged twenty years since she saw him that morning. Penelope's eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses. "Pen, don't cry," Emily said. "I'm sorry I missed debate club. I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll talk to Strauss, even."

Penelope rubbed her nose. "It doesn't matter anymore," she said in a small voice.

Emily frowned. "Okay, what's going on?" she asked. "What are you guys not telling me?" She glanced around. "Where's everybody else?"

"Maybe you'd know if you'd fucking answer your phone instead of disappearing on us," Derek shot back sharply.

"Derek," Dave warned.

Derek threw his hands in the air. "What?" he challenged. "She's been AWOL all afternoon, and now she's over here whining at us like we did something wrong."

Emily took a step back as if he'd slapped her. "What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked. "Where's Alex? Where's Hotch?" JJ was glaring at her, and Penelope wasn't looking at her at all. "Where's Spencer?"

Dave cleared his throat. "Emily, just…" He stopped, sighed heavily, started again. "Listen, _cara_ , everything's going to be okay, eventually, but right now…"

"You're not answering me," she said, her throat going dry. He was being so gentle and she hated it. "Did...did something happen to Spencer?"

JJ got up abruptly. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," she said, and she pushed past Emily to run down the stairs.

Emily stumbled back, too shocked to say anything. She looked over at Dave, stonyfaced and silent. "Okay, can somebody please tell what's going on?" she said, and she couldn't stop the crack in her voice. "What...what happened?"

She had a terrible sinking feeling that she wasn't going to like the answer, but she needed to know.

* * *

Alex sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "Can you lean a little closer, darling?" she asked. Spencer obeyed slowly. He was sitting on the floor, his folded arms resting on the edge of the tub and his cheek resting on his arms. Alex combed his wet hair as gently as she could, trying to keep from tugging too hard. He seemed a bit calmer now that he was clean and a little cooler; James had borrowed a bottle of aloe from JJ and she'd used almost a quarter of it on the sunburn covering his small body.

She got up and set the comb on the counter, turning her back to him for just a moment. "No, no, no!" Spencer said, struggling to his feet. His voice was so raw and raspy she could barely hear him. "No, wait, come back, come back-"

A sharp pang shot through her heart as he fell against her, his knees buckling, and he buried his face in her stomach. "No, sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him. She smoothed her hand over the back of his head. "Sh, darling, sh, it's all right."

Alex bent to hug him tighter, waiting for him to calm back down. She had dressed him in the softest pajamas they'd gotten him last weekend, and she could feel the prickling heat of his skin burning her palm through the thin fabric. After a moment she picked him up carefully, letting him rest his head on her shoulder, and carried him out.

James had gotten Hotch's bed set up, stacked with extra pillows and the covers pulled back. "Hey, kid, you feeling any better?" he asked. Spencer raised and lowered one shoulder.

Alex set him down in the bed, helping him lie down, and James picked up a couple of ice packs from Hotch's nightstand. "This might be a little uncomfortable, but it'll help you feel better faster," he explained, setting the ice packs under his neck and against his sides. Spencer screwed up his face at the sudden shock of cold. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry."

Alex tucked the sheets around him, then picked up his favorite blanket from the foot of the bed. His eyes lit up in relief as she draped it against him, his hands immediately grabbing for the soft fabric. She stroked his hair back from his forehead as he clutched his blanket and closed his eyes, his breathing already settling into the soft rhythmic patterns of sleep.

When James spoke again she nearly jumped out of shock, even though his voice was soft and quiet. "I think you should take a second," he said.

"A second for what?"

"To calm down," he said. "You're wound so tight you're about to explode."

She gritted her teeth. "I'm fine," she said. "And I can't leave him."

"I'll stay with him the whole time, he's not going to be alone," James promised. He touched her shoulder lightly. "Take five minutes. Catch your breath. Go see if Hotch needs help in the laundry room, he's been gone for a while." She shot him a sharp look, but he just smiled. "I know you. You need to take a second."

"Fine," she said, getting up as gently as she could to keep from jostling Spencer. "You promise you won't leave him?"

"Not for a second," he promised.

She sighed. "I'll be right back, then," she said.

She closed the door behind her as she left the room and made her way down the stairs to the fifth floor laundry room. James was right, she felt so tightly wound that she might snap.

She was angry. She was angrier than she'd ever been in her life. She wanted names. She wanted to destroy whoever thought they could do this to a child. To Spencer.

She opened the laundry room door; the air smelled faintly like mildew but mostly like detergent and dryer sheets. Hotch stood off by himself, his hands in his pockets, staring blankly at the contents of the churning washer.

"Do you need a hand?" she asked. He didn't look up. "Hotch?"

He turned around. "Hm?"

"Do you need a hand?" she repeated. "James wanted me to check on you."

He rubbed his hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah, I'm...I've got it," he said. "How's...how's he doing?"

"Sleeping," she said. "James is with him, and I'm heading right back up." She tilted her head to the side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said tightly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are...are you okay?"

Suddenly she felt so, so tired. "Mm-hm," she said. She leaned against a dryer; it had been turned off and emptied but the metal was still warm. "Hotch."

He was staring at the washing machine again, watching the water and fabric slosh against the glass door. "Huh?" he said absently.

"How...how bad was it?" she asked. "When you found him."

"Oh," he said. "Well, he was...he was…"

He fell silent. She couldn't quite see his face. "Hotch?" she said.

He said nothing. She inched a little closer. His shoulders shook, but she didn't realize that he was crying until he buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Aaron," she whispered. She tugged lightly at his sleeve, pulling him towards her.

"I don't understand," he said, his voice crackling, his face still hidden behind his hands. "Alex, I don't understand."

"I don't either," she said softly. She rubbed her hands lightly up and down his upper arms as he cried silently, trying to convey _I'm still here_ and _I understand_ and _this isn't fair_ as best as she could. She didn't try to stop, and she didn't try to talk him through it. She just kept her hands on his arms, grounding him, letting him cry.

After a while he began to calm down, his nose pink and his eyes red as he frantically swiped at his wet face with his shirtsleeves. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just-"

"I know," she said, giving his arm a last little squeeze as she let go.

He nodded and exhaled a wet, shuddery sigh. "I'll take care of this," he said. "If James asks, I'll be back up when I'm done."

"Sure," she said. "Let me know if you need anything though, okay?"

He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped ghost of a smile, and she was fairly sure he understood what she meant. She left quietly and headed back up the stairs.

True to his word, James was still in Hotch's room, sitting in his desk chair with one leg folded up under him as he scrolled through his phone. He looked up as she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. "Better?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said. "Hotch is still working on the laundry, he said he'll be up when he's done."

James nodded. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "It's getting late."

She paused. "I don't know, I hadn't thought about it," she said.

"I'm going to get something, I'll pick up something for you," he said. "You want anything in particular?" He unfolded himself from the chair and raked his soft sandy brown hair away from his face. "I figure you don't mind keeping an eye on Spencer."

She shook her head. "Not at all," she said. She sat down on the edge of Hotch's bed and rested her hand lightly on Spencer's chest, feeling the steady rise-and-fall of his breathing.

"He woke up once when you were gone, I got him to drink some water and he fell right back asleep," James said. "He was fine, don't worry. He wasn't upset." Alex nodded, and he touched her shoulder lightly. "I'll be back. Text me if you need me."

"I will," she said softly, and he left the room without another word.

She toed off her shoes and tucked her legs up underneath her, making herself comfortable at the foot of the bed. Spencer slept soundly, propped up on pillows and cuddling his blanket against his cheek. She cupped his cheek in her hand. It was hard to tell if he was any cooler- his body temperature may have dropped, but the sunburn spread across his little face was deep red and warm.

She heard the door open, but didn't turn around. "Hey, James, can you check and see if his temperature's gone down?" she asked.

"It's not James, it's...uh, it's just me."

She turned around. "Emily?" she said. "When did you get back?"

Emily hovered in the doorway, her school uniform rumpled and faintly grass-stained. Her makeup was a lost cause, mascara and eyeliner smeared under her eyes like she'd been punched. "Not soon enough," she said. She clutched one of Alex's tote bags in her hand and held it out like a peace offering. "I figured you weren't going to leave him, so I brought you some stuff. Mostly clothes. I'm guessing you don't want to stay in your uniform all night."

"Yeah, not really," she said. "Thanks. That's really thoughtful of you."

Emily reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of pedialyte. "This is for the kid," she said. "He probably needs this more now than I might need it for a hypothetical future hangover."

"Oh, god, yeah, that'll help a lot," Alex said.

Emily set the bag down on Hotch's desk, then stepped a little closer. "Jesus," she breathed. "His little face. He's so burned. I didn't...they said he was out there for hours."

Alex nodded. Emily stard down at Spencer, then quickly bent over him and kissed his forehead. "You want me to cover for you for bedchecks so you can stay with him?" she asked. "I'll talk to Elle. Don't worry about it."

"That...that would be great," she adjusted Spencer's blanket gently. The rope marks on his wrists were beginning to purple with bruising, his soft skin rubbed raw and blistered. "I have a feeling he's in for a rough night. Poor baby."

Emily bit her lip. "Keep me updated," she said. "I'll...I'll keep my phone on all night, if you need anything at all, I'll come help. Or if you need me to get anything."

"Thanks," Alex said, a little surprised. "I'll let you know."

Emily opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, then exhaled slowly instead. "I'll see you later," she said, and she left.

Alex dug around in the bag and found a soft well-washed tee shirt and leggings, her usual kind of outfit for lazy Sunday mornings in her dorm room. She slipped into the bathroom and changed out of her uniform, then shook her hair loose and braided it over her shoulder, tying it off with the ribbon she'd worn during the day.

"Alex?" she heard a quavering little voice call.

"I'm here," she called back, flicking off the lights and hurrying back into the room. Spencer was struggling to sit up, the half-melted ice packs falling away. "I'm here, baby, it's okay."

She sat down on the edge of the bed and he leaned heavily against her. "You were gone," he said.

"I wasn't far," she reassured him. "You need to lie down, my darling. You need to rest." She picked up and settled him back against the pillows, then moved the wet ice packs back onto the nightstand. "Go back to sleep. I'll be right here."

"I don't feel good," he said as she tucked him back in. "Alex, I don't feel good."

"I'm so sorry, love," she said. "I've got something for you to drink, that'll help."

James had borrowed a plastic cup with a straw from Penelope's apparently never-ending collection; she filled it with pedialyte and snapped the lid back into place. She guided Spencer's small hands to take it. "Drink all of it," she said.

She half expected him to counter with some kind of fact, or at least put up some kind of fight, but he took the cup without a word and obeyed. He looked like he was moments away from falling asleep again, and she caught the cup before it could slip from his hands. She shook it lightly to see if it was empty. "Good job," she said, setting it aside. "Are you ready to sleep now?"

He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "You're not gonna leave?" he asked, his lower lip wobbling.

"I'm not, I promise," she said. She laid down beside him and tugged him closer until he was cuddled up against her, his head resting against her shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, sweetheart. I'm right here."

He clutched her shirt tightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and she hugged him as tightly as she dared. "I'm right here, you're safe, no one's going to hurt you," she kept whispering as she stroked his back, and eventually he fell asleep in her arms, keeping his death grip on the shoulders of her shirt, his knuckles going white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o o f this was a tough one!! and I apologize for the cliffhanger!!
> 
> I'm still way behind on answering comments, but I swear I'm working on it!! And I'd love to know what y'all think, this is a really hard arc to write.
> 
> Special thanks to Brenna for being my cheerleader on this chapter!!


	17. heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting Spencer through the night is tough enough, but the shockwaves are spreading through their little group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for vomiting

_If you're lost and you're lonely_   
_Go and figure out why_   
_Take a trip to your dark side_   
_Go on and have a good cry_   
_'Cause we're all lonely_   
_Yeah, we're all lonely together_

_I want to see your sadness_   
_I want to share your sin_   
_I want to bleed your blood and_   
_I want to be let in_   
_Don't you just, don't we all just_   
_Want to be together_

_Leave what's heavy, what's heavy behind_   
_Leave what's heavy, what's heavy behind_

\--"Heavy" by Birdtalker

* * *

James's back ached as he leaned against the wall, but he wasn't about to move. There was barely enough space on the narrow school-issued twin bed for one teenager, much less two teenagers and a sick kid, but they made it work.

Alex sat next to him, cradling Spencer in her arms. He was fast asleep, his head on her shoulder and his pale lips slightly parted, but his hands clung to the front of her shirt in tight little fists, as if he was afraid he might be pulled away from her at any moment, even in his sleep. His breathing was steady but labored, like he'd been running for hours and his lungs threatened to give out. Alex rocked him gently, humming under her breath.

James searched Spencer's face for any signs of distress. He'd worked as a lifeguard and camp counselor before, and had taken every first aid class he'd been able to sign up for in the past few years, but he'd never seen heat exhaustion this bad before. Especially not in a kid as little and fragile as Spencer. For a while he'd seriously thought they'd need to take him to the emergency room.

But he seemed a little better now, sleeping quietly in Alex's lap. So far he seemed to be through the worst of it- although James had a terrible sinking feeling that while the physical problems would heal, it would take longer for the emotional wounds to scab over and scar.

There was a light knock on the door and Hotch stuck his head in the room before anyone could answer. "Found a thermometer," he said, holding it up. "You'd think there'd be one in the first aid kit."

James took it from him and leaned over Spencer, brushing his hair back so he could set the thermometer in his ear. "Don't wake him up," Alex whispered.

"I won't," he reassured her. It beeped and he squinted at the digital readout. "Not as bad as I thought. Just a little over a hundred."

"Good," Alex sighed. James didn't want to tell her that this meant his temperature had probably been dangerously high before they'd gotten him cooled down. He didn't want to stress her out more.

Hotch cleared his throat. "You probably want to head back to your dorm, it's almost bedchecks," he said. "I'll take it from here."

"Hm?" Alex said absently. She paused, as if she was trying to process what he'd just said, then looked up with a scowl. "What? No, I'm staying with him."

"But...you don't live in this building," Hotch objected.

"So? Everybody knows Gideon doesn't care about anything that goes on in Lincoln House. If he finds out, just tell him Spencer needed me."

"What about Strauss?"

"Elle and Emily are covering for me. I'll be fine for one night. I'm not leaving him."

"But I-"

"Guys, shut up," James interrupted in a half-whisper, nodding towards Spencer. Alex immediately closed her mouth, but he could tell by the stubborn set of her jaw that this was a hill she was willing to die on.

Hotch stood there with his arms folded, staring her down. "I'm his RA," he said. "And it's my room."

James weighed his options carefully. "Hotch...I think you need to let Alex stay," he said. "Spencer's been pretty calm since she got here, I think that's good for him." Hotch scowled, but he didn't keep arguing. "Besides, if something happens, it'll be better if both of you are here."

Alex looked up at him. "You're not staying?" she said.

"No, I've got to get home," he said. "But I can get here early tomorrow morning and check on him." He paused. "He's definitely not going to class tomorrow, though. He needs to rest."

"Oh, yeah, for sure," Hotch said. He sighed. "I guess I'll take Spencer's bed for the night. But you'll need to come get me if anything happens."

"I will, I will," Alex promised. "Keep your phone on you." Hotch nodded, his mouth pressed in a firm line, and he left the room, closing the door behind him.

James looked down at Spencer. Maybe he'd fucked up. Maybe they should have taken him to a hospital. Maybe they should have found an adult- although Alex was right, Gideon didn't seem to be involved with anything happening in Lincoln House, and they ended up in this situation in the first place because the school nurse wasn't listening to Hotch.

He had the sudden, terrible urge to call his mother and hand everything over to her. Except his mother wasn't Spencer's mother, and there wasn't much she'd be able to do either.

"You think we should try to get in touch with his parents?" he asked aloud instead.

Alex shook her head. "I can't get two words out of him about his family," she said softly. "He doesn't talk about them. He doesn't even have any photos of them in his room. I think...a few weeks ago he tried to call his father, but he didn't answer."

James's chest tightened. "You think we can find them?" he said.

Alex sort of smiled. "Penelope's been begging me to let her use some non-ethical channels to look for Spencer's family," she said. "After what happened...I think I might let her." Her faint smile faded as she looked down at the child sleeping in her arms. "Who are we supposed to talk to about this? What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know if anybody outside of us even knows what happened to him. But...we've got to talk to somebody."

She ran her fingertips lightly over Spencer's tightly-clenched fist. "Jamie, is there anything else we can do? Anything else we can give him to help him feel better?"

"Sleep is the best thing he can do right now," James said. "If he wakes up, give him more to drink. He may still be nauseated so he might throw up again, so just keep an eye on him. But we've already gotten him cooled down and taken care of his sunburn. There's not a lot we can do other than that."

She nodded. He could see the worry tightening around her mouth as she looked down at Spencer, and he hated that there was nothing he could do to help either of them. "Call me if you need to," he said. "I'll keep my phone on."

"Thanks," she said. James squeezed her shoulder, and she reached up to seize his hand tightly. She said nothing about being worried, so he didn't bring it up.

* * *

Spencer rubbed his eyes, trying to swallow down the panic rising like bile in the back of his throat. _Alex isn't leaving, she isn't_ , he told himsef. She was just a few steps away, refilling his cup. But the fear rose up anyway.

"You're not leaving, right?" he asked, his voice hoarse and wavering.

"Hm?" Alex said as she snapped the lid onto the cup. "No, sweetheart, of course I'm not." She handed him the cup with a smile and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm staying right here with you tonight. Is that okay?"

He nodded, exhaling slowly in relief as the irrational fear began to uncoil. Alex sat down beside him on the bed and shifted the pillows lightly behind him. "Where's Hotch?" he asked.

"He's sleeping in your room tonight," she said. "Would you rather have him stay with you?"

He shook his head. "I want you," he said.

She smiled and adjusted the covers around him. "You have me," she said. She brushed his hair out of his eyes, then touched the back of her hand to his cheek. "How bad are you hurting right now?"

His shoulders hurt the most, the seam of his tee shirt scraping against his sunburn. His head hurt, and his stomach still twisted up tight- he was afraid he might be sick again, and he was dreading it. But he only shrugged. "I'm okay," he said.

Alex didn't seem to buy the lie, but she didn't press him for more details. She touched his chin lightly. "Do you want to go back to sleep, or do you feel like staying awake for a while?" she asked instead.

"Stay awake," he told her.

She leaned around him to pick up her phone from Hotch's nightstand; she fiddled with it for a moment and handed it to him. "We can watch a movie till you get sleepy, then," she said. "I think you'll like this one."

He only sort of paid attention to the screen as Alex pulled him closer against her side and arranged the sheets and blankets around him, with his favorite blanket on top and tucked up to his chest. She took the phone and held it so he could see it. "Keep drinking your water, darling," she reminded him softly.

He took a sip as he huddled against her, his cheek pressing into her shoulder as she wrapped her arm around him. The anxiety that kept surging in his chest seemed to subside as she began to idly run her fingers through his tangled hair.

He couldn't remember the last time somebody held him like this. His father had never been one for hugs or affection ( _"you're a big boy now, Spencer, you don't need to be coddled")_ and his mother was unpredictable at best, downright angry at worst _("not now, Spencer, I can't hold you right now, don't you understand that Mommy's sick?")_

He rubbed his cheek against Alex's shoulder. The scent of her perfume was reassuring- vanilla bean and violets and lilies- and her tee shirt was soft and she was warm and comforting, and even though his whole body hurt and his head was pounding, he felt calmer than he had in a while.

The door opened slowly, and Hotch peeked inside, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "You're awake, kiddo?" he said.

"Just barely," Alex said, still playing with his hair. She was right; he was probably minutes away from dozing off again. "What's going on? Everything okay?"

"Nothing," Hotch said. "I just, uh…" He sat down at the foot of the bed, balancing himself carefully since there wasn't quite enough room for three people. "Hey, Spencer. How are you feeling, buddy?"

Spencer shrugged. "Okay," he rasped.

Alex tapped the side of the cup. "Drink a little more for me," she coaxed, and he obediently took an apathetic sip from the straw. "Is something happening, Hotch?"

"No, I just…" Hotch started to say. He'd changed from his uniform khakis to pajama pants, but he still wore his button down shirt. "I ran into JJ, and...she wants to see Spencer."

Alex's hand stilled on his hair. "I don't know about that," she said.

"I think it'll be okay," Hotch said. "Just for a second." He shifted his weight. "She hasn't seen him since…"

His voice trailed off. Spencer wasn't quite sure what he was going to say, and he looked up to Alex for an answer.

Alex paused the movie playing on her phone and swept Spencer's hair back from his forehead. "Sweetheart, do you want to see JJ?" she asked softly. "Not for long, she just so she can say goodnight." He nodded.

Hotch leaned back and beckoned towards the hallway. "Come on, he's awake," he called quietly. He paused. "JJ, come on."

She slipped into the room, tangling her fingers together. Her blonde hair was neatly braided and she was already dressed in her pajamas. "Hi," she whispered. "Are you...are you better?"

"I think so," he said. He didn't know if he felt better yet, he didn't know what he felt, but she looked so sad.

"You look better," she offered.

She was standing so far away, as if she was afraid to come close to him. Alex lifted him onto her lap and he hugged his blanket to his chest. "Thank you for finding me," he said quietly.

JJ pressed her mouth together, as if she was trying to keep from crying. "We'll always find you," she said. She bent over him and kissed his cheek, and then ran past Hotch out of the room.

His heart sank. That wasn't like JJ at all. But he wasn't sure why she was acting so strange.

He twisted around so he could see Alex. "Is she mad at me?" he asked.

"No," Hotch said quickly as Alex's arms tightened around him. "Not at all. She's...she's just worried about you, that's all." He cleared his throat. "Alex is going to stay with you tonight, but I'm right down the hall if you need me, okay?"

"Okay," he echoed.

Hotch got up, but he lingered in the doorway, as if there was something else he wanted to say but he didn't know how. "Goodnight, you guys," he said at last, and he closed the door behind him.

Alex sighed heavily, then kissed the top of his head. "You want to go to sleep, baby?" she asked. He shook his head. "Or do you want to keep watching the movie?"

He shook his head again. He didn't know how to tell her what he needed, but she seemed to understand anyway. She cuddled him close, his head resting against her chest, and he sighed, some of the tension draining from his exhausted little body as he listened to the steady thump of her heartbeat.

* * *

Hotch stared up at the dark ceiling, his hands folded over his stomach. It was past two in the morning, but there was no way in hell he was going to fall asleep any time soon. Across the room Derek snored steadily, a heap of long limbs half covered up in a quilt.

He reached over and checked his phone. No missed texts or phone calls from Alex, but it was pushing two-thirty. He threw his covers back and padded down the hallway to his room.

The bed was empty, and that was not reassuring at all- even less when he saw light shining under the crack in the bathroom door. He tapped it open quietly.

Alex sat on the bathroom floor beside Spencer, rubbing his back as he leaned over the toilet to throw up. "You're okay," she was saying. "You're okay, darling. I'm here. I'm right here."

Neither of them had noticed him. Hotch knelt down beside them on the floor. "That bad, huh?" he said.

Alex jumped. "Holy shit, Hotch," she sighed, still absently ran her hand up and down Spencer's back. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologized. She looked almost as bad as Spencer- her brown eyes shadowed in faint purple bruising, stray hairs escaping from her long braid, a damp patch on her shoulder that had to have been left from comforting a sobbing child. "I wanted to check on you guys. Glad I did." He touched Spencer's arm lightly. "When did he start getting sick again?"

Spencer leaned his forehead on his folded arms; Alex smoothed her hand over his hair. "About half an hour ago," she said. "Every time I think he's done, he starts up again."

"You should have called me," Hotch chided.

The corners of her mouth tugged down. "I tried to go back and get my phone, but he…" she started to say. She glanced down at the exhausted child and her voice dropped down quieter. "He panicked when I tried to leave the room. I...I couldn't do it."

Hotch nodded. "I get it," he said softly. He rubbed Spencer's back. "Hey, kiddo. Are you doing okay?"

Spencer struggled to sit up; his hazel eyes were bloodshot and watering. "I don't feel good," he rasped. "Make it stop."

"Yeah, I know, buddy," he said. "You want to sit up for a little bit?" Spencer shook his head. He laid himself down instead, curling up in a tight ball with his head on Alex's lap. She immediately adjusted herself to make him more comfortable, one hand working gently through his hair and the other resting on his hip.

Hotch got up from the floor and went back to his room in search of the cup. He fumbled around in the dark and found it on the nightstand; it was almost empty so he picked up the bottle of pedialyte that Emily had brought by and refilled it.

Alex was leaning over Spencer, stroking his hair away from his flushed face. "Hey," he said as he sat down crosslegged beside them. "You need to drink something."

"I don't want to," he mumbled.

Hotch lifted Spencer to sit upright and he whimpered. "You have to," he said firmly. "You're going to make things worse if you keep getting sick without anything in your stomach."

Spencer's face crumpled like he was about to cry. Alex hugged him close, letting him sag against her. "At least a little bit," she coaxed. Hotch pressed the cup into Spencer's hand, and he stuck the straw in his mouth with a petulant scowl.

Hotch leaned back against the wall and dragged his hand over his face. Twelve hours ago he was in his last class of the day, almost ready for the bell to ring, with no idea what was going to happen. Now he was sitting on a cold bathroom floor at almost three in the morning with a sick kid and an exhausted girl that he'd been friends with for a month.

Maybe if he hadn't answered Haley's texts. Maybe if he'd made sure that somebody was with Spencer. Maybe if he'd told Spencer in no uncertain terms to never talk to any of the popular kids, much less go with them anywhere. Maybe if he'd checked his damn phone.

Suddenly Spencer pulled away from Alex, the cup falling from his hands. "Gonna be sick," he gasped, and before Alex could do anything, Hotch moved him swiftly out of her arms. Spencer coughed, his shoulders shaking as he heaved.

Alex took a deep breath and slid closer to Spencer, drawing his hair back and away from his face; Hotch shifted to make room. "You're doing so good, baby," she murmured. "You're okay. You're okay, we're right here."

Spencer pushed himself back. He'd gotten sick down the front of his shirt, and his face was dangerously pale. "I don't feel good," he said, his voice soft and hoarse.

"I know, kiddo," Hotch said. "Stay here with Alex for a second, okay?"

He handed him over and got up to dig around in his drawers for one of his clean tee shirts, the cotton well-washed and soft. Spencer huddled against Alex, whining quietly through his teeth as she pressed her hand to his back.

"Sit up for a second, Spence," he said. He struggled to obey; Alex braced his sides as Hotch gently switched out his shirt for the clean one. The bruises that were barely forming earlier had now erupted on his little body in full force, wrapping around his chest and stomach and back, and Hotch did his best to keep his hands gentle.

Alex tugged the shirt down and smoothed his hair. "Do you feel like you're going to throw up again?" she asked.

"Just dizzy," Spencer said, his eyes half closed.

Hotch let him lean against his chest. A lump rose in his throat as a horrible sense of deja vu threatened to swallow him whole. Memories surged up unbidden, sour and sharp, of sitting on the bathroom floor with Sean asleep on his lap, the fan and shower running to drown out the sounds of his father shouting, dozing off while sitting up, waiting for his mother to creep in and tell him it was safe to go back to bed.

A hand touched his arm lightly and he jerked back. "Hey, sorry...are you all right?" Alex whispered. "You went pale all of a sudden."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said, a little more harshly than he intended. "Spencer, you wanna go back to bed?"

"Mm-hm," Spencer said, trying to struggle to his feet.

Hotch picked him up, settling him on his hip with the ease of years of practice, then reached out his hand to help Alex up. "Let's get you back to bed then, kid," he said.

Spencer leaned his head on his shoulder and Hotch patted his back lightly. "I can take him," Alex said, following at his heels.

Hotch turned on the bedside lamp and set Spencer down on the bed. The black tee shirt swallowed him up, somehow making him look even smaller and younger. "You can take a break if you want," he said. "You look exhausted."

"I'm fine," Alex said absently. Spencer was sniffling softly, his shoulders trembling. Alex brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Seriously, I get what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it, bubba, but really I'm fine."

He stopped, frowning. He wasn't sure if he'd misheard her because it was almost three in the morning and he was tired. And if he hadn't misheard her, he wasn't sure how it happened.

Alex handed Spencer his favorite blanket and he hugged it tight. "Close your eyes, Spencer, try to go to sleep," she said. She paused. "Oh. Oh, shit. Did I just call you 'bubba'?"

"Uh...yeah," Hotch said.

"Sorry," she sighed. "Force of habit. It's what my mom and I call my brothers, I guess it just slipped out." She rubbed her eyes, laughing ruefully. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," he said stiffly. "I guess I'll...goodnight."

He made it back out to the hallway, stopped, and walked back in. Alex glanced at him over her shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"You can...you can call me that if you want," he said. He crossed over to turn off bathroom lights. "Okay, goodnight, call me if you need me."

He bolted back out to the hallway, closing the door behind him. Derek was still asleep in his bed and didn't give the slightest hint at rousing as Hotch slipped back into the room. He sank down on Spencer's bed. But after a moment, he grabbed the pillow and the blankets and left.

Alex had made herself space next to Spencer in the narrow twin bed; he was already half asleep on her chest. "What's wrong?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Hotch threw the pillow and blankets down on the floor. "I'm sleeping in here," he said. "And you can't stop me."

Alex frowned. "Are you sure?" she said. "What if he throws up again?"

He nudged the blankets around to make a nest for himself. "Then you'll need help," he said. "I have a feeling that it bothers me a hell of a lot less than it bothers you."

Alex sighed heavily. "Is that obvious?" she said.

"Yeah," he told her. "That, and James mentioned that you're…kind of a sympathy puker."

Alex rolled her eyes. "It's not that bad," she said. She looked down at the sleeping child curled up into her side. "And I'll put up with it for his sake."

Hotch switched off the light. "Well, if anything happens, I'm here," he said. "Goodnight."

"'Night."

He laid down on the floor, making himself at least somewhat comfortable, then propped himself up on his elbows. "Hey, Alex?" he ventured.

"Mm-hm?"

"If you give me a nickname, I'll have to give you one back," he said.

She laughed a little. "I'll hold you to that then, bubba," she said sleepily.

* * *

Derek switched off his alarm, yawning. There was a gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach, as if something was wrong but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He sat up and turned on the lights, and his eyes fell on Spencer's empty bed, and it all came crashing back.

He'd thought Hotch was sleeping in Spencer's bed, but maybe not. Or maybe something worse had happened to the kid overnight, and he'd had to leave. That thought nearly sidelined him, so he pushed it away and got out of bed as quickly as he could.

He got ready for class on autopilot, navigating the crowded bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. But he didn't see Hotch, and that made the worry pull harder at the pit of his stomach. Once he was ready to leave, he made his way down the hall to Hotch's room, swimming upstream against the other boys getting ready to leave for breakfast and homeroom. He had just raised his hand to knock when the door opened.

"Shit!" he blurted out.

Hotch frowned at him. "Shut up, Spencer's sleeping," he said. He was in full uniform already, his blazer buttoned and his shaggy dark hair combed back neatly, but his eyes were ringed in dark circles. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," Derek stammered. "How's Spencer?"

He tried to peer around him into the room; he caught the faintest glimpse of Spencer's soft light brown hair before Hotch closed the door. "I told you, he's sleeping," he said. "So is Alex. She's going to stay with him."

"Is he better?" Derek asked.

Hotch brushed past him. "I need you to walk the girls to the dining hall," he said. "I have to talk to Gideon."

"About Spencer?"

"Can you stop asking questions?" Hotch said sharply. He paused. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap, I...didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Derek stayed in stride with him as they headed down the stairs. "No, I get it," he said quietly.

"Gideon needs to know what happened," Hotch said. "We can't handle everything by ourselves."

"You think they're going to figure out who did it?" Derek asked. "Do you think they're gonna get in trouble?"

"Not sure," Hotch said. He shouldered his backpack as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Stay with Penelope and JJ. Make sure you're with them at all times, and if not then David or James. Just to be safe."

"What about Emily?"

"Emily can hold her own," Hotch said. "We can talk about everything tonight."

Derek shifted his weight. "I can't," he said uncomfortably. "I've…I've got a game."

He couldn't read Hotch's expression. "Oh," he said. "Of course." His eyes narrowed. "Stay with the girls, please."

Derek watched him stride across the lobby and knock on Gideon's door firmly. After a moment Hotch opened it and went inside, and Derek went in search of JJ and Penelope, his stomach tied up in knots.

* * *

Penelope rested her chin in her hands and gazed at Spencer's empty desk, her teacher's voice fading out in her ears. It seemed wrong to be in class without him. He was always fidgeting, squinting at the smartboard while the teacher lectured, fiddling with his pencils or absently kicking his heels against his chair since his legs were too short for his toes to reach the ground. She could count on one hand the number of times that she'd seen him take notes, and when he did it was completely illegible.

"Miss Garcia? Are you paying attention?"

Her head shot up. "Yes," she said. "I'm, um. I'm listening."

The teacher raised her eyebrow, but after a long knowing glance at Penelope, she went back to the board. Penelope bit back a sigh.

At least class was almost done. The whole day had felt strange and unfamiliar and uncomfortable and she just wanted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. Hotch had never made it down to breakfast, and Derek insisted on walking with her and JJ everywhere they went, and Emily and the older boys were unusually solemn and silent at lunch. Things seemed wrong without Spencer or Alex there, and every time she remembered why they were gone it felt like ice cold water had crashed over her in a wave that threatened to pull her under for good.

She looked over at JJ. Somehow JJ managed to seem perfectly calm, her face expressionless as she took notes. She wasn't sure how she could do it.

The bell rang, startling her so badly she dropped her pen. JJ picked it up quickly and handed it to her, pulling her long hair back over her shoulder. "Let's get out of here," she said.

Penelope dumped her belongings into her sequined backpack and zipped it up. "Do you think Hotch will let us see him?" she asked.

"Maybe," JJ said. "He let me see him last night, but...only for a minute. He was tired."

"Maybe if we ask Alex, she'll-"

She collided with another student on the way out the door. Neal barely glanced back at her. "Watch where you're going," he said.

She froze. What if he was one of them? What if he was one of the people that hurt Spencer, and he was walking around as if nothing had ever happened, as if it didn't matter?

JJ took her firmly by the arm. "Come on, Dave said he would meet us by the stairs," she said.

Penelope allowed herself to be pulled away, her steps dragging. At least class was over, and it was the weekend, and screw it, she wasn't going to whatever stupid club she had scheduled for the afternoon. She was done for the day.

"Hey! Penelope!"

She turned around to see Haley Brooks heading directly towards her, her blonde hair tied back in a navy and gold bow. "Hey, I was hoping I could catch you," she said brightly. "Have you seen Aaron?"

"Aaron?" Penelope repeated blankly. "He's, um...he's-"

"He's busy," JJ said.

Haley frowned. "I've been looking for him all day," she said. "And he hasn't answered any of my texts." She reached into her backpack and pulled out Hotch's favorite hoodie. "Do you mind giving this to him? He let me borrow it yesterday."

JJ grabbed it. "I'll give it to him," she said. "Thanks. We have to go. Come on, Pen."

Before she could protest, she pulled her away. "Sorry, Haley," Penelope called over her shoulder. She almost tripped over her own shoes. "JJ, what's wrong?"

JJ's hand was almost too tight on her wrist. "I don't think we can trust her," she said. "If Hotch isn't talking to her, we shouldn't either."

"But...he loves her," Penelope objected. "And he's been really busy."

JJ kept walking. "She's from Roosevelt House," she said. "She's a cheerleader. Think about it."

Penelope's heart sank. "But Haley's so nice," she said in a small voice.

But JJ said nothing, and Penelope stayed quiet.

* * *

Derek dropped his bag down in front of his locker. The upset stomach feeling hadn't subsided all day, and now that he was supposed to get ready for the game, it somehow seemed worse.

Hotch had stayed tight lipped all day about his conversation with Gideon, the older kids were trying to keep the younger kids distracted, and James spent most of lunch on his phone texting back and forth with Alex. Everything just seemed wrong and hollow and incomplete without Spencer running to keep up with them and jabbering a mile a minute.

And it seemed wrong to be in the locker room, listening to the other boys shouting over the clanging of locker doors and someone's phone blasting music. Any of his teammates could have been the ones to hurt Spencer- the same teammates that offered him advice and cheered him on when he made it off the bench and encouraged him after a rough practice.

How could the same people who were kind to him turn around and treat Spencer like this?

His stomach twisted tighter. Maybe he could beg out of tonight's game, claim he was sick.

He changed out his school clothes and into his football uniform, moving slowly, dread weighing down in his veins like lead. If he was lucky, he wouldn't even play, they'd keep him on the bench all night. He could stare at the field with its bright lights and booming speakers and the sharp scent of fresh-mown grass stinging his nose, and after a few hours he could just go back to his dorm room.

"Hey, Morgan, were you there?" Thornton called.

He looked up and frowned. "Where?"

"On the field yesterday," Willis said. "Didn't see you, did you leave as soon as they canceled practice?"

His mouth went dry. "Yeah," he said.

"Oh, you missed it, then," Lamb grinned. "Some of us got kinda bored."

"What'd you do?" Derek asked, struggling to keep his voice even and casual.

"You got airdrop turned on? I'll send you the pictures."

He managed to answer, but the noise in the locker room dulled in his ears. His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it out of his bag.

The rest of his team was already distracted, their conversations switching subjects, but Derek scrolled through the photos, his body going numb and cold. But it didn't take long before he had to close them out, the horror overwhelming him.

And then the horror faded into anger, hot and red and bubbling, and he stormed out of the locker, pushing past Maclain and his teammates, striding out into the hallway. He wanted to lash out, he wanted to scream, he wanted to destroy something, but he knew that losing his temper wasn't going to do nearly enough to balance this out.

He rapped sharply on the closed office door. "Come on in."

Coach Buford looked up from the play diagrams spread across his desk. "Derek," he said. "Are you doing all right, son? You look a little peaked."

"I have to talk to you," Derek said. He held out his phone. "Something happened on the football field yesterday. Something really bad. And I need you to help me."

* * *

Haley shifted her weight anxiously. "Why aren't they bringing us on for our halftime routine?" she asked. "We should have started five minutes ago."

Harper shrugged. "No clue," she said. She shook her pompoms together absently; the rustling noise sounded like a thousand cicadas. "I don't even know where the coaches are."

"Where's Alexa?"

"Where do you think?" Harper said, rolling her eyes. "Probably sucking face with Maclain somewhere."

Haley exhaled heavily, her hands on her hips. They never started late. The varsity squad had a reputation to uphold, and she was a part of that reputation, and she was starting to take it personally that she was still standing on the sidelines.

She tugged on the hem of her cropped uniform top as Harper snuck a peek at her phone. It was way too hot still, even though the sun had gone down, and she debated for a moment if she could run back and grab some water.

Suddenly Harper grabbed her elbow. "Oh my god," she said. "They just benched Thornton."

Haley frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean that Jordan just texted me and said that the coaches didn't give the guys a halftime locker room talk, they just started pulling people out," Harper said, frantically texting back. "And like, no good reason. Thornton's been doing fine."

"Maybe it's a mistake," Haley said. "Maybe there's something going on that we don't know about it."

Suddenly Alexa came running up to the rest of the squad, her curled blonde ponytail flying behind her. "John just got benched!" she said.

"Are you serious?" Harper said. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't know!" Alexa said. "The coaches just pulled him into the office and said he's benched for the rest of the game."

"So Thornton and Maclain?" Haley said.

"And like...six other guys," Alexa said.

"We can't play the rest of the game without the quarterback!" Harper protested.

Alex dabbed at her eyes carefully, trying not to mess with her makeup. "They're subbing in that sophomore boy, Derek Morgan," she said. "I don't understand. Do they just want us to lose?"

"Something weird is happening," Haley said. "Do you know why we haven't done our halftime routine?" Alexa shook her head.

A sharp whistle distracted her and she turned to see the cheer coaches making their way closer to them. Alexa smoothed out her hair and squared her shoulders. "Are we starting halftime?" she asked.

"Not exactly," the senior coach said. "We're not doing the routine tonight." She cleared her throat. "I have a list of names of people who are getting pulled from the rest of the game. You have to go right down to the football coach's office."

"How many?" Haley asked.

The coach checked the list of names. "Five," she said. "That includes you, Alexa. Go on."

All the color drained from Alexa's face. "Why?" she said. "What did I do?"

Haley grabbed Harper's hand. "What the fuck is happening?" she whispered, drawing back as the coach ushered Alexa and a couple of the other girls away from the field.

"I have no idea," Harper whispered back. "But it's not good."

* * *

She had avoided this all day. She wasn't good with kids. She wasn't good with sick people. A sick kid? This was the opposite of everything she was capable of handling.

"Don't look like that, Emily, it's fine," Dave said.

"Look like what?" she said.

"Like you're getting marched to your execution," he said. "Listen, I get it. It's hard trying to deal with all of this. But we need you to help Alex."

Emily sighed. "I know," she said. "I'll do my best. But if James can't convince her, I don't know why everyone thinks I can."

"You don't know her yet like James and I do," Dave said. "She's stubborn. She's got to hear multiple viewpoints before she'll listen and take things seriously. Go on."

He opened the door to Hotch's room and ushered her inside. Emily stayed close to the wall, suddenly unsure of what she should do with her hands.

The room wasn't big enough for five teenagers and a sick little kid. Hotch was sitting at his desk, his long gangly legs stretched out and his folded arms resting on the back of the chair. James sat crosslegged at the foot of the bed, a textbook on his knee, and Alex was resting against the stacked pillows with Spencer cuddled up against her side, half hidden securely under the blankets.

"Hey, guys," Dave said. "How's it going?"

"Not too bad," James said. He glanced over at Spencer, half asleep in Alex's arms. "He's been keeping down water and crackers, so I call that a success. And his temperature's down."

"That's good," Emily offered.

Hotch glanced up at her from the corner of his eye. "Prentiss, you ready for this?" he asked. She nodded.

James touched Alex's ankle lightly and she jumped. "What?" she asked, almost a little whining.

"You need to take a break," he said softly. "You've been in this room since yesterday. You've barely slept, you've barely eaten."

"He needs me," she said, eyes narrowing. "And I don't mind."

"He's doing a lot better," Hotch said. "He hasn't gotten sick in about ten hours, he's been sleeping. You can leave him with me and James, it'll be fine."

"And besides, you can't stay here another night and risk Strauss finding out you missed bedchecks," James pointed out.

Alex shrugged. "I never get in trouble," she said. "If she gives me a detention or something I'm sure my permanent record can handle it."

"Alex," James said, firmly enough that she looked up at him. "Take a break. Just for tonight."

"Who's going to stay with him?" she challenged. "Someone has to stay with him."

"Hotch can," Emily said. Alex turned to look at her. "They're right. You're running yourself into the ground real fucking fast. That's not good for you or the kid." 

"But what if he wants me?" Alex objected.

Hotch got up from the desk and knelt down on the floor beside the bed. "Hey, Spencer," he said softly. "Wake up for a second, buddy."

"Uh-huh?" Spencer said sleepily, raising his head a little from Alex's shoulder.

"Alex needs to go back to her dorm for the night," Hotch said. He brushed Spencer's hair back from his forehead. "Will you be okay if I stay with you instead?"

Spencer nodded, pushing himself to sit up. "Yeah," he said, rubbing his eyes. "It's okay, Alex, Hotch can stay with me."

Hotch stood up, his hand on Spencer's shoulder; Spencer leaned his head against his hip. "You're sure?" Alex said. "Because I can stay. They can't tell me what to do."

"That's why they called in me and Emily to back them up," Dave said dryly. "We know how stubborn you are, Miller. We will drag you out of here if we have to."

Alex sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Fine," she said. She cupped Spencer's face in her hands and kissed his forehead. "But if anything's wrong, Hotch _has_ to call me. You tell him, okay? If you need me, tell him he has to call me, and I'll come right over. And I'll be right back in the morning."

"He'll be fine," James reassured her as she got up. "Dave and I are going to stay for a while too. We'll keep a good eye on him. Don't worry."

Alex tucked Spencer back in under the covers; he was already almost asleep again. "I can't help it," she said.

"I swear, if anything happens, I'll text you," Hotch said.

Alex sighed. "Fine," she said. "Fine, I'll go, but I'll be back here in the morning." She bent over Spencer and kissed him, adjusting his favorite blanket so he could hug it to his chest.

"Yeah, we figured as much," Dave said. "But Emily is going to take you back to your dorm whether you like it or not."

Alex stood up and pressed her hands to her temples. "Hotch, I'm not kidding," she said quietly. "You can't leave him. You can't leave the room. He'll panic."

"I won't," Hotch promised.

Alex reluctantly picked up her bag from the floor. "All right, Prentiss, let's go, I guess," she said. She glanced back over her shoulder at Spencer already fast asleep, his blanket pressed to his cheek.

Emily nudged her lightly towards the door. "C'mon," she said. "Let the kid sleep. And when I say kid, I mean you. You look like you've been hit by a truck."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she said shortly.

Emily fell silent, her attempts at lightening the mood dying down quickly. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do or say. Mostly she wished she hadn't listened to Dave and gotten herself involved in all these feelings.

They walked outside into the quiet courtyard, the night air still heavy with humidity and fireflies buzzing around the lampposts. "Hey, can you hold this for me?" Alex asked, holding out the bag. Emily took it, slinging it over her shoulder, and Alex pulled the ribbon out of her hair and shook out her ragged braid.

"You doing okay?" Emily ventured.

Alex ran her fingers through her long hair. "Well, apparently I look like I've been hit by a truck," she quipped.

Emily sighed. "You know what I mean," she said. "This whole...thing."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Alex said. The last vestiges of yesterday's mascara were smudged around her eyes, and Emily had never seen her walk around campus in just a tee shirt and leggings before. "I should probably check and see what I missed in classes today. At least I have the weekend to get homework done. I can get it done while Spencer's sleeping."

Emily chose to keep her mouth shut as she swiped her keyfob and they walked into the quiet Roosevelt lobby. She was half tempted to text James and tell him to talk some sense into his not-girlfriend. Alex seemed to listen to him more than anybody else.

They had just made it to the stairs when the door to Strauss's office opened. "Oh, god, walk faster," Emily said under her breath.

"Excuse me, Miss Miller," Strauss called. Alex stopped, her hand on the railing, her back towards her. "I heard you missed bedchecks last night."

"It was an emergency situation, and my RA was made aware," Alex said quietly.

Strauss stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. "I'm afraid that isn't an acceptable answer, Alexandra," she said. "If it was an emergency, I should have been informed as your head of house. Now, you've never been much of a troublemaker in your past three years here, but this kind of behavior is not permissible. We don't want you to jeopardize your position here during your senior year, now, do we?"

Alex turned around. Emily unconsciously took a step back. Alex's jaw was set stubbornly, her dark eyes glittering. "With all due respect, Ms. Strauss," she said, and her voice was low and cold and terrifying. "I just spent the past twenty-four hours taking care of a child who was too terrified to be left alone even for a second. I held him while he slept. I sat with him on a bathroom floor until my legs were so asleep I couldn't stand up on my own. I'm pretty sure I still have vomit on my shirt. You may not consider that to constitute an emergency, but I do."

Emily looked from Alex to Strauss and back. Strauss's eyes had gone owlishly, almost comically wide, but Alex stood ramrod straight, her hand resting on the banister, her chin raised in a challenge. "I apologize that you feel that I've done something wrong, but I haven't," Alex said. "If you would like to come up with some sort of punishment for my behavior that you find appropriate for the situation, then I'll accept it gladly. But I was where I was needed, and I won't apologize for that."

Strauss blinked a few times, her arms falling to her sides. "Well," she said, a little briskly, clearly caught off guard. "Let's just not make it a habit, shall we?"

She disappeared into her office, closing the door behind her. Emily turned to Alex, her mouth dropping open. "Holy _shit_ , Miller," she said. "You have balls of steel. I can't believe you just did that. Little miss model pupil."

But to her surprise, Alex seemed to slump forward, her hand covering her eyes.

"Are...are you okay?" Emily asked. Alex crumpled forward, her other arm wrapping around herself, and her body started to shake. "Hey, are...are you crying?" She touched her back lightly. "Come on, Alex, don't cry."

Someone cleared their throat, and Emily looked at the bottom of the stairs to see a couple of sophomores gawking at them. "Um...can you move?" one of them said. "You guys are kind of in the way."

Emily's blood boiled. "You can fuck off," she snapped, dropping the bag. "There's enough room. And stop fucking staring at her."

She sat down and pulled Alex down to sit on the step below her. Alex leaned on her lap, hiding her face in her arms, and started to sob. Emily smoothed her long hair, ignoring the sophomores navigating around them on the stairs. "Go ahead and cry," she said softly. "I think you've earned it."

Alex sobbed, the sound muffled in her folded arms, and Emily sat with her in silence, stroking her hair and keeping her company as she cried. She couldn't do much to help, but she could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S LATE. BUT IT'S HERE. AND I LOVE Y'ALL.
> 
> Also I've started crossposting my tumblr drabbles over here, if you'd like to read them! And I'm prepping for whumptober as well, which I'm really excited about.
> 
> Special thanks to Brenna for being my cheerleader and my beta and my go-to friend for gushing over these babies!! (also you can thank Brenna for Hotch accidentally collecting a nickname. We've already decided what he's going to end up calling Alex and honestly they're going to be the cutest accidental coparents/fake siblings in the world)
> 
> thank you so much for being patient with me since this update took so long!! let me know what y'all think!!


	18. elastic heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer's getting better, but the repercussions will take a while to settle.

_You did not break me_   
_I'm still fighting for peace_

_Well, I've got thick skin and an elastic heart_   
_But your blade, it might be too sharp_   
_I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard_   
_But I may snap when I move fast_   
_You won't see me fall apart_   
_'Cause I've got an elastic heart_

\--"Elastic Heart" by Sia

* * *

At first he couldn't pinpoint where the sound was coming from, or even what it was. And he couldn't remember why he was sleeping on the floor. His blankets were tangled around him and the carpet was cold and rough against his skin. And the sound persisted.

Hotch raised himself up on his elbows, squinting into the darkness of his dorm room. His head ached and he winced at the repetitive sound- a soft, painful little whine. He felt sluggish and faintly sick to his stomach, shaken awake too soon, and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. But then it clicked.

He pushed himself up off the floor and sank down on the edge of the bed. "Spencer, hey, buddy, it's okay," he said sleepily. He rested his hand on Spencer's stomach. "Come on, kiddo, wake up."

Spencer curled away from him, pulling at the bedsheets. He was crying, his voice breaking from his throat in raspy sobs, and Hotch tugged him back towards him. "It's okay, Spencer, wake up, it's just a bad dream," he said, raising his voice a little louder.

Spencer's eyes snapped open and he flinched away from Hotch looming over him. He hastily switched on the lamp on his nightstand. "Spence, no, no, it's just me," he said as Spencer closed his eyes tight and covered his face with his hands. "You're okay. You're okay, buddy."

Spencer looked up at him, blinking hazily. "I had a bad dream," he whispered.

"I know," Hotch said, smoothing his hair back. "I know, buddy, I'm sorry. But you're safe, I swear."

Spencer struggled to push himself up, his thin arms visibly shaking with effort. "I don't...I don't remember what I was dreaming," he said, rubbing his eyes. "But it was...it was bad. It was bad, Hotch."

"Yeah, I know," Hotch said softly. He squeezed Spencer's upper arm gently, careful of his sunburn. "You need water or anything?"

Spencer nodded; Hotch picked up the cup on the nightstand and handed it to him. It was room temperature but Spencer drank it quickly, holding the cup in both hands. Hotch took it back when it was empty. "You want any more?" he asked. Spencer shook his head. "You wanna go back to sleep?"

"I wanna sleep with you," Spencer whispered.

"I know, kiddo, I'm right here," Hotch said. "I've been sleeping on the floor the whole time, you're not alone."

Spencer shook his head. "No, I wanna sleep with you," he repeated, his lower lip wobbling.

It took a second for him to get it. Hotch brushed his hair off his forehead. "Move over, then," he said. Spencer obeyed, shifting around to make room, and Hotch grabbed the extra blankets off the floor.

The school-issued twin bed was narrow, but there was more than enough room for Spencer to burrow into his side. Hotch pulled the blankets around them both, making sure that Spencer's favorite blanket was pressed up to his cheek.

"Go back to sleep," he said softly, but Spencer's breathing was already evening out, deep and steady, one hand clutching Hotch's shirt and the other holding tight to his blanket. Hotch sighed and closed his eyes, hoping he'd be able to fall asleep too.

* * *

Emily stifled a yawn as she balanced her Macbook on her knees. She wasn't quite sure how she ended up like this. Three months ago she'd still be asleep after staying out all night; inevitably she would wake up at noon with a wicked hangover and beg the housekeeper to make her some kind of greasy, salty breakfast. Now she was spending her Saturday morning writing a paper that wasn't due for another two days, after going to bed at a reasonable hour, while babysitting her exhausted roommate.

She glanced across the room. Alex was still asleep, facing the wall, her long hair spread across her pillow and her covers pulled up to her shoulders. She had crashed the second they had gotten back to their room, not even bothering to change clothes, and she'd been sleeping soundly ever since.

Emily's phone buzzed and she checked the screen. She'd texted James a couple of times back and forth- he was clearly worried, and she didn't blame him. And he didn't even know yet that Alex had had a sobbing meltdown on the stairs, in front of what seemed like half of Roosevelt House. She figured she'd bring that up to hi in person when she had the chance. For now she sent him a reply, and set her laptop aside to wait.

She was prepared when the door opened and James peeked inside. "Hey," he whispered. "How's it going?"

"How the hell did you get in here without Elle noticing?" she whispered back.

Elle stuck her head around the door from behind James. "Bitch, I let him in," she said, raising her fingers in a peace sign. "If Strauss asks, I've never met any of you."

She nudged James into the room and closed the door. "Jesus," Emily said. "Elle Greenaway is terrifying."

James shrugged. "She's not so terrifying when you meet her in the ninth grade and she's got braces and a Hello Kitty backpack," he said. He held out a cup. "Coffee?" She raised an eyebrow. "Iced vanilla latte."

"Thanks," she said warily as she took the drink. "You got it right." She took a cautious sip. "Shouldn't we be more quiet?"

"Oh, because of her?" James said, nodding towards Alex. "Oh, no. She can sleep through a hurricane. She'll wake up when she's ready." He sat down next to Emily on her bed, balancing his drink in his hand. "How are you doing?"

She blinked. "Me?" she repeated. He nodded. "Fine, I guess. I mean...I don't have a valid reason to be upset about anything. It's her you've got to worry about. She...uh, last night…"

"Elle told me," James said quietly. He balanced his cup in both hands. "I kind of figured that something like that would happen. She's really bad about bottling things up." He sort of smiled. "She likes to think she's bulletproof, but she's not."

"Yeah, I get that," Emily said. She took a sip of her coffee. "Do you know how the kid's doing?"

"Hotch says he got some sleep, so that's good," James said. "He'll be okay. It's just...it'll take some time for him to be himself again, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Emily said.

They fell silent. James seemed comfortable, but she didn't know what to say. She didn't discuss feelings on a normal day. This sort of thing was out of her depth.

Emily took a sip of her coffee and nearly spit it out as Alex suddenly sat up, her eyes still half closed. "Holy shit!"

"Hey, sleeping beauty," James said, seemingly unbothered by Alex's zombie act. "How are you feeling?"

She rubbed her eyes. Her long hair hung over her face in tangled tendrils and her smeared makeup made gray smears across her cheekbones. "Fine," she mumbled. "Where's...how's Spencer?"

"He's fine, I texted Hotch and he's still asleep," James said. "I brought you a chai latte, you want it?"

She frowned and pulled the strap of her tank top back over her shoulder. "You're sure he's okay?" she said.

"Positive," James said. "We'll go over there once you're a functioning human. Want your drink?"

"Uh-huh," she said sleepily, holding out her hand. "I'll be ready fast, I swear."

"Take your time, Miller, it's fine," Emily said.

* * *

Frustration prickled all the way down to JJ's fingertips. She was frustrated by the movie playing that no one was watching, she was frustrated that Penelope kept sniffling and swiping at her eyes, she was frustrated that Derek hadn't bothered to show up, she was frustrated that Hotch wasn't saying anything. But she said nothing. She kept quiet and kept it to herself.

She couldn't look at Spencer. Hotch had made him a little nest on one of the common room couches, trying to get him comfortable with pillows and blankets. He was so still and silent. Spencer was never still and silent.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and sat up. "Hey, guys," James said, smiling brightly. "I guess we're starting movie night early, huh?"

"Please tell me we're not watching Toy Story again, I can't take it," Dave said.

Spencer struggled to sit up. "Is Alex here?" he asked.

Alex slipped past the boys, pinching James's elbow lightly as she ducked around him. "Hi, baby," she said as she sat down on the edge of the couch. "Are you feeling better?"

Spencer nodded as he crawled into her lap and buried his face in her shoulder. "He's been drinking water and gatorade and hasn't puked it back up," Hotch said, his eyes closed as he leaned back against his chair and tilted his head against the back. "And he slept for a while."

Alex shifted around to get comfortable and cuddled Spencer on her lap, making sure his blanket was still close. "That's good," she said.

Emily perched on the arm of the couch next to them. "Can we pick another movie?" she complained. "I think Antebellum is on Amazon Prime."

"No, no, no horror movies," James said. "Penelope will have nightmares."

"Yes, Peneope absolutely will," Penelope said. "Something nicer, please. Preferably bright colored. With musical numbers."

JJ flexed her fingers as Emily started to argue her case playfully with the others. Some of the tension was beginning to ease. Penelope wasn't crying anymore, and Hotch had dozed off completely with his arms crossed over his chest. Spencer cuddled close to Alex; he was still quiet but now he seemed calm and sleepy rather than stressed and tense.

Now the stressed and tense one was Derek. He sat with his back to the wall, his phone abandoned on his knee, staring blankly at the television as if it was fascinating. JJ nudged his ankle lightly with his toe. He jumped in surprise.

"What're you thinking?" she whispered.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. He picked up his phone and busied himself with checking his texts. JJ bit back a sigh.

The older kids and Penelope had finally decided on a movie to switch to when one of the freshmen jogged up the stairs and passed by the common room, then double back. "Oh, hey, Morgan," he said. "Great job last night. I can't believe they subbed you in, they've never let an underclassman play quarterback before."

The room fell silent. JJ whipped around to stare at Derek. "I'm sorry, what?" she said.

He raised and lowered one shoulder unhappily. "It's nothing," he said.

"Nothing? Dude, you won the game practically singlehanded," the freshman said. "You did great, and you had to deal with second string teammates. I hope they sub you in again next week."

He left the room. Derek didn't look up from his phone. "Derek, something you want to share with the rest of the class?" Dave said.

"It's not that big a deal," Derek said. "Coach had me play quarterback last night. And, uh...it went pretty well."

"You won," JJ said. "I think that's more than doing pretty well."

"Why did they need a new quarterback?" Penelope asked.

"They had to pull half the team," Derek said. He pushed himself off the floor. "I'll be back."

JJ leaned back as he walked past her. Someone must've told on the half of the team to get them in trouble.

Someone like Derek. Someone who ratted out their teammates and then got rewarded for it.

She filed that thought away for later. It might end up biting Derek in the ass later.

* * *

Haley nearly dropped her book as her dorm room door banged open. "Holy crap, what's wrong?" she said.

Harper threw her bag on the floor. "Everything is fucking falling apart," she said. She sat down on the end of Haley's bed. "Half of the football team is suspended. And a bunch of the cheer squad."

"What? Why?" Haley stammered. "What did they do?"

Harper pulled up her slim legs to sit crosslegged. "It was like, two days ago?" she said. "Thursday. Remember when practice got canceled because it was too hot?"

She frowned. "Uh-huh," she said. "Did something happen?"

Harper tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Apparently everybody was super bored and didn't know what to do," she said. "They sent somebody to go find that ninth grader that got Willis and Lamb suspended."

"The little one?" Haley said. "Didn't he skip a bunch of grades? He's only like...ten or something. He's a baby."

"Yeah, well...they might have done something to him," Harper said.

"Like what?"

Harper fiddled with her phone and handed it over. "That," she said.

Haley watched the screen with mounting horror. The image bounced and shook, as if whoever filming was running. She could pick out several of the football players in their practice gear- Dylan, Brent, Tyler, John. And in the middle, gripped by his thin forearms, was Spencer Reid.

He was screaming something, panicked and unintelligible. Tyler pried his backpack off his shoulders and threw it aside into the neatly trimmed grass of the field. Spencer tried to wriggle away, but they were holding him too tight.

Haley looked up at Harper, her hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, what's happening?" she said.

"Keep watching," Harper said grimly.

They pulled off his clothes piece by piece, ripping his shoes and uniform away and tossing them into the grass. Spencer sobbed, struggling in their tight holds, but he was so small. He couldn't fight them off.

"Holy shit," Haley breathed. "They're not tying him up, are they?"

"Just keep watching," Harper said.

And they did. Haley stared in shock at Harper's phone in her hand as the football players lashed the ropes around the child. He was so small, and he was crying like his heart was broken- rough, ragged wails that seemed too big to come from such a tiny body.

The video ended abruptly. Haley raised her head slowly. "Harper, oh my god," she breathed. "How...how could they do to him? He's just a little boy."

"I don't know, I wasn't there," Harper said. "But there's _so_ many people in trouble. It sucks that they took so many videos and photos, they should have known they'd get caught."

Haley tossed the phone on the bed. "No, it sucks that they did this to a little kid," she said, her teeth tightly clenched. "Harper, they tortured him. Anyone who could do this is an awful person and deserves to get in trouble."

Harper snatched up her phone. "Well, if you're gonna be so high and mighty about it, don't come crying to me when we can't go to Nationals without the seniors on the squad," she said. "It was just a stupid prank. Like, yeah, it was kind of shitty, but it wasn't that bad."

"It was that bad," Haley shot back. Her roommate rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Haley covered her face with her hands and exhaled in a sharp frustrated shriek, but every time she closed her eyes, she kept seeing the same images over and over and over again.

* * *

"Okay, but like...this movie has _so_ many plotholes!"

"No! It's perfect! It's an underrated treasure!"

"How did everyone on the fucking island forget how to read?"

Alex bit back a smile as the other kids bickered, shrieking over the sound of the movie playing on the common room television. Spencer was lying down with his head on her lap; she tried to see if he'd dozed off, but he was still awake, staring at the TV with a blank, sleepy expression. She kept stroking his soft hair.

All day she'd tried to get him to fall asleep. He was fussy and irritable and couldn't get comfortable, no matter how he tried. At least he'd been able to eat a little bit, and he'd had plenty of water and gatorade. That was better than nothing.

"Hey, Jamie, can you grab his blanket?" she whispered. He leaned down and grabbed it; it had somehow slipped down to the floor. She draped it over Spencer and he took hold of it sleepily.

The rest of the kids continued to argue about the movie as the credits started to roll. Alex tucked her hands under Spencer's arms and lifted him onto her lap. "What?" he whined, dropping his head on her shoulder.

She kissed his temple. "You need to go to bed," she said. "It's getting late."

"No, I'm not sleepy," he protested.

"Yes, you are," she said. "You should go take a shower and I'll put more aloe on you, and then you need to get some rest."

Spencer's lower lip dropped in a pout. "I've been resting all day," he said. "I can stay up a little longer."

Alex caught Hotch's eye. He frowned at her for a moment, confused, but he got up when he saw her trying to slide Spencer off her lap. "No, it's late," she said. "Come on."

He tried to pull away from her. "No!" he whined, but Hotch caught him and picked him up. "Put me down!"

"You heard her," Hotch said. "Let's go, kiddo."

Spencer huffed and dropped his chin to Hotch's shoulder as Alex followed them down the hall. "I don't need to go to bed," he said.

Alex didn't acknowledge him, but she touched his arm lightly. "If you get him in the shower, I'll go get his clothes," she said.

"Yeah, sure, you get to do the easy job," Hotch said, but he grinned at her. "Yeah, I'll take care of it."

The door to Derek and Spencer's room was partially open, but she knocked lightly anyways. "Yeah, come in," Derek said.

Alex stepped inside. "Hey, I'm just getting some clothes for Spencer," she said. Derek shrugged. He was sprawled out on his bed with his phone in his hands, and he didn't look up when she walked in. "Are you doing okay? I thought you were going to come back to finish the movie."

"No, I wasn't really feeling it," he said. Alex opened Spencer's drawers. "Is he going to sleep with Hotch again tonight?"

"I think he might," she said as she picked through the drawers in search of pajamas that wouldn't bother his sunburn. "He's still pretty shaky." She nudged the drawers shut with her hip. "Hey, congrats on playing quarterback, by the way, that's a really big deal."

"No, it's not," Derek said. He got up and stuck his phone in his pocket. "I'm going to go see what everyone else is doing."

Alex sighed as he stalked out of the room. She had a feeling there was something going on, but he certainly wasn't about to open up to her about it.

She could hear the shower running through the closed bathroom door when she got to Hotch's room; Hotch sat at his desk with his chin resting in his hand. "Is he doing okay?" she asked.

"Well, he complained a lot, but I got him in there whether he liked it or not," Hotch said, rubbing his eyes and sitting back in his chair. "Do you mind staying until he falls asleep?"

"No, not at all," she said. She pulled herself up to sit on his desk. "I haven't gotten the chance to ask you directly, how did last night go?"

"Not bad," Hotch said. "But he definitely had nightmares. I ended up sleeping with him because he couldn't fall back asleep on his own." He folded his arms across his chest. "He asked if I could stay with him."

Alex bit her lip. "Poor baby," she said. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Do you want me to stay tonight?"

"No, I don't think he's as bad off as he was yesterday," Hotch said. "Plus I don't want you to get in trouble with Strauss. Hopefully she won't find out about the other night."

"Yeah, hopefully," she echoed.

The water stopped running in the bathroom. "Hotch, do you have my clothes?" Spencer called.

"I've got it, don't worry," Alex said, sliding down from the desk. She opened the door and set Spencer's clothes down on the counter. "Hi, sweetheart, I've got your stuff. Get dressed but leave your shirt off for right now, I'll put more aloe on your sunburn."

She dug the bottle of green gel out of Hotch's medicine cabinet as Spencer yawned. "I think I'm tired," he said.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't," she said. She hesitated. The bruising on Spencer's chest was even darker now, deep purple and blue where his fair skin wasn't burned red.

He blinked. "What?" he said.

She smiled at him. "Nothing," she said, kneeling down on the floor. "Just hold still, okay? It'll probably be cold."

She smoothed the aloe over his burned skin, trying to stay as gentle as possible, and helped him pull his tee shirt on carefully over his head. "Does that feel a little better?" she asked as she pulled the hem down over his stomach.

"Uh-huh," he said. He yawned. "I might be sleepy."

"Yeah?" she said as she squirted more gel into her hand. "See, I told you." She smeared aloe on his cheeks and nose and he unexpectedly giggled, trying to duck away.

"That's cold!" he said.

She hadn't heard him laugh or seen him smile in the past few days, and her heart squeezed in her chest. "Sorry, baby," she said softly as she smoothed it over his face. "There, we're done. How's that?"

"Better," he said. "Thank you."

She set the bottle back down on the counter and picked him up. He didn't weigh enough. She'd thought that before, but it somehow seemed worse now that he was in such bad shape. They needed to fix that.

Hotch looked like he'd dozed off at his desk, and Spencer didn't seem much farther behind. Alex set him down on Hotch's bed. "Lie down," she said. He obeyed, cuddling up against the pillows. "There's your blankie."

"It's not my blankie, it's just a blanket," Spencer said sleepily. "There's a difference."

"Oh, of course," Alex said. She tucked him in, but her hands lingered on the covers. "Spencer, do you want us to call your parents for you? Even if you don't want to talk to them directly, Hotch or I could-"

He shook his head. "No, that's okay," he said. "You don't have to do that." He rubbed his eyes. "Can I go to sleep now?"

"Yeah, you can," she said.

"Can you stay until I'm sleeping?"

Alex brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. "I'll stay," she said softly. "Here, scoot over."

He made room for her and curled up on his stomach, his forehead pressing against her shoulder. Alex stroked his hair gently, keeping up a gentle rhythm until she heard his first little snores. When she was confident he was asleep she eased out of the bed and adjusted his blankets, making sure his blankie was close, and kissed him gently.

She stayed as quiet as she could as she crossed the room and patted Hotch's back. He bolted upright, dazed. "Hey, calm down, bubba, it's just me," she said. "Spencer's asleep."

Hotch twisted around in his chair and visibly relaxed at the sight of Spencer tucked into bed. "Thank god," he sighed.

"I tried to ask him if we could call his parents for him and tell them what's going on," she said. "He said no."

Hotch dragged his hand through his hair. "God, I don't know what to do about that," he said. "Does he even have parents? Does he have a family?"

"I'm not sure," Alex admitted. "But we'll take care of him. He'll be okay in the end. We'll make sure of it."

* * *

Penelope scowled at her laptop screen. The St. Thaddeus parental controls and firewalls were absolutely ridiculous, she couldn't get any real work done with them up.

Not that she didn't know how to get around them, of course she did. But she didn't want to set off any alarms.

"What are you doing?"

Penelope screamed and slammed her laptop shut. JJ screamed too, jumping back. "You scared me!" Penelope accused.

"You scared me! All I did was ask you what you were doing!"

Their dorm room door opened and Tara stuck her head in. "Ladies, quit yelling, it's quiet hours," she warned.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sorry, Tara."

Tara shot them a last warning eyebrow and backed out of the room. JJ pulled her towel off her freshly washed hair and sat down on her bed. "Seriously, though, what are you doing?" she asked. "You're staring at your laptop like you want to murder it."

"Well, kind of," Penelope admitted. She sat back. "Okay, I'm going to tell you something, but I've only talked about it with Alex, so you _definitely_ can't talk to anyone else about it."

JJ blinked. "Okay," she said. "What's going on?"

"I'm trying to find Spencer's family," Penelope confessed. "Alex had me look, but she told me she only wanted me to use ethical channels. So I didn't, but I didn't find a whole lot. So I'm trying out some of the, uh...sketchier options."

JJ scrunched up her face in confusion. "You can't just, like...google them?" she said.

"How am I supposed to google them? Just type 'spencer reid's parents please' into the search bar and hope for the best?"

"Well, not like that," JJ said. "I mean, like...there's other options than google?"

"Oh, my darling, dozens," Penelope scoffed. "Are some of them questionable? Probably. Are any of them outright illegal?" She paused. "Not like _outright_ illegal."

JJ combed her long wet hair with her fingers. "Have you had any luck?" she asked.

"Not yet," she said. "I was able to find the law firm where his dad works, and his mom's work email. She's a college professor."

"Maybe that's why Spencer's a little walking library," JJ said. "Have you gotten in contact with them?"

"I didn't try, but I think Alex tried to email the mom," Penelope said. "But I don't think she answered." She frowned. "That seems weird to me, though. Alex emailed her about her own kid, why wouldn't she answer?"

"Why did Spencer's parents send him across the country to boarding school without any stuff other than what he could carry in his backpack?" JJ said. "Maybe he's better off without his parents. Maybe he'll be better off with just us instead."

"Maybe," Penelope echoed. "Maybe Hotch and Alex can just adopt them. They're practically his parents now."

"No, it has to be James and Alex," JJ corrected. "If James ever asks Alex out. Do you think it'll ever happen?"

"I hope so, I have a lot of money riding on them!" Penelope said. "I think everybody's paid into Dave's betting pool at this point. He just needs to get his act together."

* * *

"Okay, sorry, it's...it's a really long order," James apologized. He scrolled through the text on his phone. "So...I need a large iced cold brew, absolutely nothing it…"

He had been tasked with getting coffee for everyone as soon as he'd gotten to Lincoln House that morning, and Alex had insisted that he take Hotch with him to help carry things. Judging by the way Spencer had immediately fallen into Alex's arms and dissolved into tears when she walked into the common room, and the dark circles under Hotch's eyes, it had been a rough night. Bad dreams keeping the kid awake, most likely.

Getting out of Lincoln House seemed to be good for Hotch, at least. He was quiet, but some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease when they walked into the Honeybean. Alex was right, Hotch was too stressed.

James leaned over to get a better look at the pastry case. "Do you think Spencer would want anything?" he asked.

"Usually he would," Hotch said. "If it's sugar glazed and covered in sprinkles, he'll like it."

"You want anything?" James asked. "Dave gave me his credit card so it's no big deal."

Hotch shrugged. "I don't know, I don't usually eat the kind of stuff they have here," he said. "I don't-"

He paused, his face going pale. "What's wrong?" James asked.

He followed Hotch's gaze. Haley Brooks had just walked into the Honeybean.

"Are we done?" Hotch asked in a low voice. "Can we go?"

"We still have a couple of drinks left," James said, half apologetic. "But if you need to go-"

"Hey, Aaron?"

James tried to make himself busy, but he couldn't help but overhear. And he sort of wanted to overhear.

Haley cleared her throat. "Hey, how are you doing?" she said.

"FIne," Hotch shrugged.

Haley dropped her hands on her sides. "I didn't know," she blurted out. "I didn't know about any it, Aaron. And...I'm so sorry. What they did was really shitty. And...and they all deserve whatever punishments they get. Even if they get kicked of the teams. They shouldn't have done any of it."

Hotch's shoulders stayed tense. "You didn't know?" he said.

She shook her head. "I really didn't," she said. "Are you doing okay? Is Spencer doing okay?"

"Spencer's getting better," Hotch said. "And I'm, uh. I'm fine."

Haley smiled up at him. "I'm glad," she said. She squeezed his arm lightly. "Let me know if I can do anything to help. And you got your hoodie back, right?"

"Yeah, Spencer's got it right now, actually," he said, and he smiled at her. "Thanks, Haley."

They were gazing at each other and it was very sweet, but James found himself with both drink carriers in his hand and he didn't exactly know what to do. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hotch, you ready to go back?" he ventured.

Hotch jumped. "Oh!" he said, breaking his eye contact with Haley. "Yeah. Uh...I'll see you later, Hay."

She waved a little goodbye as Hotch picked up one of the carriers and followed James out of the Honeybean. "She's cute," James offered.

Hotch turned red all the way up to his ears. "Yeah, she's cute," he mumbled. James hid a grin. He wouldn't press too hard, not when things were still so stressful, but Hotch's puppy love crush on Haley Brooks was honestly adorable.

He made it to the seventh floor common room first. "Hey, we're back," he said. "I did my best, but if anything's messed up, I swear I didn't do it on purpose."

"You're a fucking saint," Emily sighed, reaching for her coffee.

"I try," James grinned. He picked up Spencer's drink. "Hey, buddy, I got you a hot chocolate. You want to sit up?"

Alex shook her head. She was lying down on the couch with Spencer cuddled against her chest, his face half hidden against her shoulder. "Give him a minute," she said softly, carding her fingers through his soft thick hair. "He dozed off and had another bad dream."

James nodded and set the cup down on the table. "Don't worry about it," he said. He squeezed Alex's shoulder. "You're doing great. He'll feel better soon."

He hoped he sounded confident. He wasn't sure how he felt.

* * *

Spencer tangled his hands in his blanket. He felt fidgety, like he desperately needed to move, but at the same time he was so tired he couldn't summon up on the energy. The soft texture of his blanket was the only thing that made him feel like he wasn't about to fall apart.

Alex shifted him in her arms and he curled himself up smaller against her. She'd held him almost the whole day, and part of him felt bad for monopolizing her attention all weekend, but selfishly he didn't care. She seemed to know that he needed to be held and hugged and reassured.

It had been a bad day. He was so exhausted, but every time he dozed off he drifted into nightmares that left him shaking and gasping for breath. His skin still stung, and his stomach hurt enough to make him nauseous again, and his head ached. He just wanted things to go back to normal.

Hotch crouched down beside him and rested his hand on his back. "Hey, kiddo," he said. "It's getting late. You ready to go to bed?"

"Yeah," he said. "But...but I want to sleep in my own bed. And I want to go to class tomorrow."

"Are you sure, baby?" Alex said. "You don't have to. You can stay home and rest again if you want. Someone will stay with you."

"No, I want to go," he said. He pushed himself up, the horizon dipping as he struggled to get balanced again. "I'll be okay."

"Only if you want to," Hotch said. He helped him up to his feet. "We won't force you."

"I'll be okay," he repeated.

He wanted to sleep so badly, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to. He took another shower and Alex rubbed more aloe onto his burns. They wouldn't let him see himself in the mirror, but he know the edges of his sunburn was beginning to burn and that he was covered with bruises too. Truthfully he was fine without looking at the damage.

He climbed into his own bed as Alex set up his nightlight. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Fine," he lied as he leaned back against the pillows.

Alex tucked him in securely. "If you need anything at all, you wake up Hotch or Derek, okay?" she said. "If you need them to call me, you can tell them, I'll be right there." She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "You're sure you don't want to sleep with Hotch? I'm sure he won't mind."

"I'm sure," he said.

She smiled wistfully as she stroked his hair back from his forehead. "Try to sleep, then," she said. She handed him his blanket. "I'll see you first thing in the morning. Goodnight, darling."

"Goodnight," he echoed.

THe room was different in the dark with just the nightlight. He pulled the blanket close to his chest. He hoped he could sleep, but he wasn't sure.

At sme point he dozed off, and he woke up with a start with terror coursing in his bones, leaving him loose-limbed and shaking. He thought about waking up Derek or Hotch, but he couldn't do it, he couldn't get up. Instead he started chewing on the corner of the blanket. Somehow it soothed him, even though he had no idea why. He couldn't go back to sleep, so he stared at the ceiling until morning light began to peek through the windows and Derek's alarm clock began to chime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy CRAP this took me so long. Thank you so much for sticking around, it really really means a lot to me!!
> 
> October turned into an accidental weird hiatus, and then I really struggled with getting back into the groove with this chapter. But I did it! Please let me know what you thought, this was a struggle.
> 
> Also the kids are debating about a specific Disney movie- can you figure out which one it is??


	19. breakable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there are repercussions, but not for everybody

_Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts_   
_Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts_   
_So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess_   
_And to stop the muscle that makes us confess_

_And we are so fragile_   
_And our cracking bones make noise_   
_And we are just_   
_Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys_

\--"Breakable" by Ingrid Michaelson

* * *

Penelope bit back a yawn as she closed her sticker-covered macbook and rested her chin in her hands. It was too damn early to be awake, much less already in the dining hall, but Dave had promised her the biggest, sugariest drink he could get from the Honeybean if she met him early, and that was an offer too good to pass up. And besides, she'd felt so useless in the past few days. This was the first thing she could do to be moderately helpful.

She took off her pink glasses and rubbed her eyes, momentarily grateful that it was too early to bother with makeup. The dining hall smelled like maple syrup and bacon, but students were just beginning to filter in for breakfast, leaving the cavernous space unsettling in its quiet.

She yawned abruptly, startling herself when her jaw popped. "Jesus, Pen, what was that?" Derek asked as he dropped his backpack on the back of the chair next to her.

"Don't make fun of me, I'm tired," she complained.

JJ sat down on her other side. "What did you have to do so early this morning?"

"An important mission," Penelope said. "Where's the baby?"

Derek nodded towards the door. "He and Hotch are coming," he said. "I don't think the kid slept at all last night. But he was in his own bed, so that's progress, I guess."

Penelope twisted around to get a better look. "Oh, no, from the looks of it I don't think either of them slept," she said. "Yikes on bikes."

"Maybe don't mention it though," JJ said, scrunching her nose in a wince. "I don't think Spencer or Hotch would be happy to hear that. They're doing their best."

Penelope bit back her thoughts as Hotch set down his backpack. Privately she thought he looked like a Tim Burton character with those dark circles under his eyes, but JJ was probably right. Most likely Hotch didn't want to hear her refer to him as Edward Scissorhands.

"How did you beat us over here?" Hotch asked, frowning at her.

"I had an important mission," she said. "Do you guys want to get in line? It's pancake day, you know how fast those go."

"Where's Alex?" Spencer asked anxiously.

"Probably trying to get Prentiss moving," Derek said. "I don't think Emily would be on time for anything if Alex didn't drag her along."

"What'd you say about me?" Emily asked, suddenly leaning over his shoulder.

Derek jumped. "Nothing," he said.

"Thought so," Emily said, raising a mock-warning eyebrow at him. "You're right, though. Guess who forgot to set her alarm?"

"Again," Alex said dryly. Her long hair hung loose around her shoulders; Penelope could see her hair ribbon dangling out of her blazer pocket. Spencer sidled up to her and leaned against her hip. "You'd sleep through all your classes if it wasn't for me."

"I'm a night owl!"

"You're nocturnal, that's what you are," Alex said. She brushed Spencer's hair back from his forehead. His sunburn was beginning to fade and peel, rough and white around his nose and mouth. "Hi, darling. Did you get some sleep?" Spencer shrugged, hiding his face in her side.

Emily clapped her hands. "Come on, it's pancake day, I'm not waiting for the rest of you," she said. She grabbed JJ by the wrist. "Let's go, Jayje!"

"Okay, okay, fine, don't pull my arm off!"

Penelope yawned again as she followed the other kids up to the line; Alex held Spencer's hand and Hotch trailed behind them. "Seriously, Pen, how early did you wake up this morning?" JJ asked.

"Too early," she said as she picked up a plastic tray and set it down on the rail. "I need caffeine in the worst way."

Alex picked up two plates and set them on her tray. "What do you want to eat?" she asked Spencer. "Do you want pancakes too?"

"I don't think I'm hungry, thank you," he said.

"You have to eat something, darling, it'll be a long time before lunch," Alex said. "There's scrambled eggs, but you don't like those. I'm getting toast, do you want that?" He shook his head. "What about oatmeal like Hotch?"

Derek snorted as he dropped a scoopful of eggs on his plate. "You don't want oatmeal like Hotch," he said. "Listen, I roomed with him all last year, and he eats the exact same breakfast every morning. Two bowls of oatmeal with nothing in it except raisins, and a yellow Red Bull."

Penelope paused. "Oh my god, you're right," she said. "I hadn't even realized. What a sad breakfast. Like a Dickensian orphan. Hotch, why do you eat such a sad breakfast?" Hotch didn't look up as he scooped oatmeal into the first bowl. "Hotchner." Another scoop. "Aaron Hotchner." He scowled to himself as he sprinkled raisins over the top. "Does anyone know his middle name?"

"Edward," Derek supplied helpfully.

"Aaron Edward Hotchner!"

Hotch blinked, scattering raisins across his tray. "What the fuck?" he said, perplexed.

"You weren't answering, it was desperate measures," Penelope said.

"Sorry, it's loud in here," Hotch said. He paused, his frown deepening as he looked down at his bowls of beige gloop, and tossed another spoonful of raisins on top. "What did I miss?"

"Why do you eat oatmeal with raisins on it every day?" Penelope asked. "That's so sad. There's nothing good in there. No sugar, no syrup, no peanut butter."

He shrugged. "I like oatmeal, I guess," he said. He looked down at his tray again. "And raisins."

"That's a lie. No one likes raisins."

"I like raisins."

Alex picked up a pancake and placed it on Spencer's plate. "What's got you stressed, bubba?" she asked.

"Gideon caught me on the way out of Lincoln House," Hotch said, dropping the scoop back in the raisins. "The headmaster wants to talk to me and Spencer after chapel today."

"Am I in trouble?" Spencer asked anxiously.

"No, sweetheart, I'm sure you're not in trouble," Alex reassured him. He didn't look reassured, biting down hard on his lower lip.

Hotch cleared his throat. "I'm going to get a drink," he said. "I'll get you something too."

Derek leaned over to Penelope. "Watch. Yellow Red Bull," he said. "He'll drink the original one if they don't have yellow, but he'll complain about it." Penelope laughed.

She carried her tray back to their usual table, balancing it carefully. Dave had taken the chair across from her. "As we discussed in your terms and conditions," he said, sliding a large cup across the table towards her.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said. She took a sip of the frothy, sugary, cold drink and sighed happily. "Your payment is deemed acceptable."

"Payment for what?" JJ asked.

"And why didn't you get coffee for everybody?" Emily said. "I could do with a latte."

"Penelope was the one who got up early to help me with a project, she earned that coffee," Dave said. "Although I don't really think it's coffee. That's a milkshake."

"A caffeinated milkshake," Penelope pointed out.

Alex set down her tray. "You're going to be bouncing off the walls by chapel," she laughed.

"And you'll crash by lunchtime," JJ added.

Spencer climbed into his seat as Alex put his plate down in front of him. "It's called reactive hypoglycemia," he said. "It typically happens about four hours after eating a meal high in carbs and sugar. So you'll probably crash sometime around third period."

"Thanks for the science, Dr. Reid," Emily said. She ruffled his long hair and he offered a tentative lopsided smile.

Hotch dropped his tray on the table and set a bottle of chocolate milk down in front of Spencer. "Here you go," he said. "Dave, are you not eating?"

Dave waved his hand dismissively. "I got a bagel at the Honeybean," he said. "But hey, everybody's here, I can show you the thing Penelope and I came up with."

"James isn't here," Alex objected.

"He already knows," he said. He pulled an iPhone in a plain purple case out of his blazer pocket and set it down in front of Spencer. "Here you go, _passerotto_."

Spencer looked down at it, frowned, and looked back up at Dave. "It's a phone," he said blankly.

"It's your phone," Dave said. "It was my mom's, but she just upgraded to the newest one. So it's secondhand, but like...barely used."

Spencer picked it up tentatively. "I don't know what to do with this," he said.

"Ah, see, yes, that's where I come in," Penelope said. She tapped in the passcode. "I did a little programming magic. It's super streamlined. You've got an internet browser, texting and calling, and some games I thought you'd like."

Hotch cracked the top of his yellow Redbull. "It's probably a good idea that you have your own phone," he said. "Just in case."

"That's what we thought!" Penelope said. She angled the phone so Spencer could watch her working over the screen. "So you have everybody's phone numbers, and I put you in the group chat. But also, I worked a little magic, and you have this now." She tapped a button, and suddenly everyone but Dave started fumbling in their pockets for their vibrating phones. "See? Magic! All you have to do is press this, and it'll send your location to everybody in the group."

"Baby girl, you're a genius," Derek said.

Penelope beamed. "Thank you, it's nice to be appreciated," she said.

Spencer was very quiet, looking down at the glowing screen of his new phone. "What do you think?" Alex asked.

"Thank you," he said in a small voice. "Thanks, both of you."

"I'll help you figure out the rest of it," Penelope said. "But you like it? The purple case was my idea."

"I like it," Spencer echoed. Penelope smiled at him, and he smiled back.

* * *

Dave tapped his pen idly against his desk, only half listening to Strauss's lecture. His desk was by the window and he could look out across the green yards of the campus. It had been a while since they'd all gone out to the creek, maybe they could manage it some afternoon. Or maybe he could even round everyone up at his house for one last swim in the pool before his parents closed it up for the season. It had been an unusually hot summer, but that usually led to a brief autumn and a sharp cold winter.

"I'm going to pass back your last writing assignment," Strauss was saying. "Now, I have to say that overall I wasn't exactly impressed. Please keep in mind that next week will be your first peer-reviewed assignment, so remember that you're going to be writing for an outside audience. And I'm sure your classmates will not be as nearly merciful on your work as I am."

Dave sat up. He'd been waiting to get his work back. His parents wouldn't be thrilled that he'd picked creative writing as his elective, not when he could have picked something a little more useful for his eventual law degree, but maybe if he could come home with high grades and effusive praise, they might relax a little bit about his hobby.

Strauss handed out papers one by one, continuing to talk about their upcoming assignment. He didn't want to think about the next assignment, he wanted to find out how he did on the first one.

She set his story in front of him, face down. He waited for her to move to the next student before he snatched it up and turned it over.

His score scrawled across the top in bright red ink. An eighty-four. A C-plus.

He stared at the page in shock. It wasn't like he was expecting an A; Strauss was a notoriously hard grader, even for her so-called easy classes. But he'd been hoping for at least a B, maybe a B plus. Not this.

Strauss checked her wristwatch. "Stop packing your bags, we still have time," she said. "Your next assignment will be due on Friday, and I'm looking for a minimum of three thousand words. I'll accept a maximum of seven thousand, but any more than that is too much, and quite honestly unnecessary." The bell rang, bright and jarring, and the other students around him jumped to their feet and grabbed their backpacks. "You're dismissed."

Dave packed up slowly, letting his classmates file out of the room. He slung his bag over his shoulder, but he held his assignment in his hands, tilting the page to ensure none of his classmates could see the grade.

Strauss didn't look up from her computer as Dave approached her desk. "Can I help you, Mr. Rossi?" she asked.

"I wanted to ask you about my grade," he said.

Strauss looked at the red letters, then back up at him. "Yes, you got a C," she said. "If you're trying to get me to raise it, I can already inform you that I have never changed a grade for a writing assignment."

"No, no, I'm not...necessarily asking for that," Dave said. "I'm just not sure why you gave me a C. I avoided passive voice, my grammar is correct, I don't think I made any punctuation errors…"

"Oh, no, technically you did a passable job," Strauss said. "But your story didn't meet the standards I asked for."

Dave frowned. "How?" he said, irritated.

Strauss laced her fingers together and met his gaze evenly. "The assignment was to write a fictionalized account of the most difficult situation you've ever dealt with," she said.

"I did."

"You wrote about missing an international flight and sleeping in a French airport overnight," Strauss said. "It doesn't matter how good your sentence structure or your punctuation is, your subject matter was uninteresting and offered nothing of any value to a reader."

He scowled. "What did you expect me to write about, then?" he said.

Strauss took off her glasses, folded the arms, and set them down on her desk. "Would you like me to be frank, Mr. Rossi?" she said.

"If you don't mind," he said, biting back the sharpness threatening to seep into his voice.

"A good writer brings their experiences into their writing to draw out depth of emotion and personal connection to a reader," she said. "I asked you to write about the most difficult situation you've ever dealt with, and you wrote about a skiing trip in Europe and sleeping on a couch in the business class lounge."

The back of his neck prickled. "And your point is?" he said.

She sighed. "My point is, Mr. Rossi, that I'm going to need a great deal more imagination from you if you expect to improve your creative writing," she said. "And quite frankly, your experiences make for very underwhelming stories. I need you to think outside the box a bit." She shuffled a stack of papers on her desk. "You'd better run along to chapel, unless you're planning on being tardy."

He wanted to say something back, sour and sarcastic, but he refrained. Instead he shoved his assignment into his bag, pressed his mouth into a firm straight line, and stalked out of the classroom.

He wasn't stupid. He could read between the lines. Strauss thought he was a spoiled, selfish rich kid. And maybe he was. But he wasn't a bad writer. And his life hadn't been perfectly easy. She didn't know what she was talking about.

He cut through a back stairwell, the heels of his oxfords striking the polished wood steps in satisfying thumps that echoed in the silence. Already he was running through possibilities for his next assignment. He'd show her. He'd prove her wrong.

* * *

Hotch folded his arms and tilted his head back against the unforgiving back of the church pew, staring into the dusty rafters. The school chaplain droned on and on through announcements, the words staticky and distorted in the PA system; he could only catch a handful of words here and there as he zoned out.

He was not looking forward to taking Spencer to talk to the adults. Not at all. There was no telling what they were going to do or say to him. Ideally their priority would be to make sure he was okay, but he had seen more than enough happen in Lincoln House over the past two years. Lincoln kids didn't get the benefit of the doubt. They got lectures. They got demerits. They got asked what they did to exacerbate the situation.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to make himself focus on the chaplain's announcements. But he couldn't think straight. He hadn't slept much the night before. Spencer had knocked timidly on his door at one-thirty, wide eyed and shaking after another bad dream, and it had taken forever to get him calmed down enough to go back to sleep in his own bed.

"...with family weekend coming up soon, please stay up to date with the activities itinerary. Your parents will get their own copy emailed as well, but all students should stay advised on the schedule of events…"

Oh god. Family weekend. _Fuck._

He pressed his fingertips against his ears, momentarily blocking out the monotone voice. He never knew how to feel about family weekend. On one hand, he'd finally get to see Sean. On the other hand, he'd have to deal with his aunt and uncle barely tolerating him for three days.

Focus on Sean. That's all he needed to do. That was the point behind all of this, anyway- get good grades, use the insurance money he had in trust after his mother's death to go to college, apply to get custody of Sean as soon as he could. His little brother was all he had left, and they needed to stick together.

He allowed his mind to wander and settle, lulling himself to the point that he nearly dozed off, but as soon as the service ended and the chapel erupted into a dull roar of chatter, he pushed himself up and picked up his backpack, scanning the freshman section.

"Hey, Aaron!"

He jumped. "Oh," he said, scrambling to hold onto his bag. "Hi, Haley."

She smiled up at him. Today her soft blonde hair was curled around her shoulders, the sides pinned back with gold barrettes with little glittering stars. "Are you coming next Monday?" she asked.

"Uh," he said. "Yeah, uh...what's on Monday, again?"

"They announced auditions," she said. "For the musical, remember? Wedding Singer."

"Oh, yeah," he said. It felt like centuries ago that he had sat next to Haley on the couch backstage, listening to music with her. "Yeah, uh...I don't know if I should come."

"I really think you should," Haley said. "We always need guys in the musicals."

"I'll...I'll think about it," he stammered. His mouth had gone suddenly dry. She tilted her head, as if she was patiently waiting for him to say something else, but it was as if every thought had flown out of his head.

Alex walked up next to him, Spencer clinging tightly to her hand. "Hey," she said. "You ready to take him?"

He exhaled sharply. "Right," he said. "Yeah, I'm ready. C'mon, Spencer."

Spencer grabbed onto the hem of Alex's blazer. "I don't want to," he said. "I don't want to go."

"You need to talk to the grownups," she said. She pried his fingers away gently but he latched on even tighter. "Spencer, it's all right. Go with Hotch, and I'll see you at lunch." He buried his face in her side and she knelt down to hug him, speaking softly in his ear.

"Is he okay?" Haley asked quietly.

Hotch rubbed his eye. "I have to take him to talk to the headmaster about what happened," he said.

Haley nodded sympathetically. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, then paused. "I hope everything goes okay," she said. She squeezed Hotch's arm lightly. "Let me know if I can do anything to help."

"Thanks," he said. "I...yeah. Thanks, Haley."

She offered him a last little smile before slipping away into the crowd, her Vera Bradley backpack slung across her shoulder. Hotch bit back a sigh.

"That was a deep sigh, bubba," Alex said as she smoothed Spencer's hair and straightened up. "Something going on?"

"Yeah," he said reluctantly. She glanced from him to Haley, then raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat. "Let's get going, Spencer. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get it over with."

He held out his hand; Spencer grabbed onto his fingers tightly. Hotch walked him out of the chapel and back towards the main building, keeping his strides short so Spencer could keep up. He stayed silent. Spencer didn't need a pep talk right that second.

The administrative offices were in the oldest part of the building. There was something intimidating and cavernous about the empty silent halls and the rows of doors with their frosted glass windows and polished brass nameplates. Hotch ran his thumb over Spencer's knuckles as he approached the secretary's desk.

"Hi," he said, his voice echoing just the smallest bit. "We're supposed to talk to Dr. Ryan?"

She glanced up at him, then back at her computer. "Oh, yes," she said. "Just a moment, I'll let him know you're here." She got up from her desk and paused, looking him up and down. "You've grown quite a bit since the last time you were sent to the office, Mr. Hotchner."

He felt the back of his neck heat up in embarrassment and forced an awkward smile. He had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

The secretary walked back towards them, her heels clicking briskly. "Go on in, they're ready for you," she said. Hotch squeezed Spencer's hand tightly and nudged him towards the office.

Dr. Ryan sat behind his desk, smiling pleasantly at them. "Mr. Hotchner, Mr. Reid," he said. "Come on in." Hotch sat down stiffly. The other heads of houses were there- Gideon, Cruz, and Strauss, all staring at him and Spencer. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you, sir," Hotch said. He caught Gideon's eye and the older man gave him a slight nod. It was almost encouraging.

Dr. Ryan flipped through a file, skimming the pages, and closed it. "Let's get right down to it," he said. "We wanted to discuss the incident that happened a few days ago." Spencer looked up at Hotch, wide eyed and panicked. "Aaron, can you explain for Ms. Strauss and Mr. Cruz?"

Hotch shifted his weight and sketched out everything he knew. Spencer stared down at his shoes, just listening, occasionally nodding. The adults stared at him intensely as he spoke, and it made his skin crawl.

They were all silent for a moment after he finished talking. He sat very still, waiting for one of them to say something.

"Thank you, Aaron," Dr. Ryan said at last. "Now, these accusations are not something we're going to take lightly-"

"With all due respect, Max, these aren't accusations, there's goddamn video evidence," Gideon interrupted.

"Jason, language," Stauss said under her breath.

"It's not something we're going to take lightly," Dr. Ryan continued. "Especially taking Spencer's age into consideration. You skipped a few grades, correct?"

"I'm...I'm ten," Spencer said in a small voice.

Strauss did a doubletake. "He's ten years old?" she said. "Max, who approved his admission? He's too young to be here."

Dr. Ryan shrugged. "You'll need to take that up with the admissions board," he said. "His test scores are astronomical and he's already getting As and Bs in his classes, so I don't think we need to put his intellect under scrutiny today." He cleared his throat. "Now, Spencer, looking at your record, this isn't the first incident you've had since the school year began. I see there was an altercation in your gym class a few weeks ago?"

"He was bullied by some older boys in his grade, they pushed him down and-" Hotch started to say.

"No, no…" Dr. Ryan said, flipping through the papers on his desk. "There was another incident...Spencer apparently put glue on sports equipment?"

Spencer had gone completely pale, his eyes glazed over as if he had zoned out completely. "Like I said, the bigger boys targeted him," Hotch said, gritting his teeth.

"Retaliation is not acceptable, Mr. Hotchner," Dr. Ryan said calmly. "We had enough discussions about that subject during your freshman year that I think you ought to remember. Perhaps Spencer should have talked to a teacher instead of taking things into his own hands."

"He did, and the teacher sent Spencer to detention," Hotch said flatly.

"Well, if the teacher thought that Spencer-"

Hotch leaned forward in his chair. "No!" he said. "No, there was no reason to send Spencer to detention. If it was truly necessary, the bullies should have been sent too. But like always, the Lincoln House kids get the brunt of the punishment while the rich kids get a slap on the wrist."

"Aaron," Dr. Ryan warned, and Hotch leaned back, crossing his arms tight across his chest. "Inappropriate outbursts will not be tolerated."

Gideon shifted his weight. "Max, come on," he said, waving his hand. "You're seriously trying to tell me that this little kid should have been nicer and that could have prevented him from getting assaulted?"

"Assault is a strong word, Jason," Strauss said.

"Have you seen the video, Erin?" Cruz said. "Assault seems like the right term to me."

"Well, I haven't seen it, but-"

"Max, there's no reason to get the poor kid worked up, just get whatever you need and let him go back to class," Gideon said. "And stop giving Aaron a hard time. You know as well as I do that he's been a model student since his freshman year."

Dr. Ryan sighed heavily. "Aaron, if you don't mind waiting in the hallway, we'd like to talk to Spencer privately, please," he said.

Spencer whipped his head around to stare up at Hotch in frightened desperation. "I'm his resident advisor, can't I sit in on this?" Hotch asked.

"I'm afraid not," Dr. Ryan said. He nodded towards the door, and Hotch got up reluctantly.

"I'm sure we'll discuss everything with you once we have the chance to talk to Spencer," Cruz reassured him.

He was not reassured, but he got up from his chair and squeezed Spencer's narrow shoulder, then slipped out into the hallway. There was no point in arguing. All he could do was wait, and hope that Spencer could speak up for himself.

* * *

Alex yanked the ribbon out of her hair, shaking it free down her back. "Okay, can you guys stop bickering for two seconds?" she said, exasperated.

"We're not bickering, we're bantering," Penelope said.

"Just _stop_ ," Alex sighed. "JJ, please eat something other than French fries. You're going to keel over at soccer practice if you only eat junk."

JJ popped a fry into her mouth. "It's okay," she said. "I might quit soccer anyway."

Alex frowned. "I thought you liked soccer," she said. "You're so good at it."

"But I might quit," JJ countered.

Alex sighed. "I don't have time to unpack that," she mumbled to herself as JJ dumped more salt on her fries.

She twisted around in her seat to watch the dining hall door as she combed her fingers through her hair and started to weave it into a braid. Hotch and Spencer should be back, she wasn't sure why they weren't.

James sat down next to her. "Here's the fork you forgot," he said, holding it out.

"Thanks," she said absently, tangling her hair around her fingers as she frowned at the closed door.

"Come on, Ariel, take the dinglehopper," he teased. She scrunched up her nose in confusion at him. "Sorry, stupid joke." He slid off his blazer and draped it over the back of his chair. "Are you still worried?"

"They should be back by now," she said.

"They'll be here soon, I'm sure," he said. He touched her shoulder lightly. "Really. It'll be okay. Anything I can do to help?" She just shrugged.

Emily sat down across from Alex. "Hey, do you guys know what's up with Rossi?" she asked. "He got partway through the line and then ditched. Something about how he has an assignment to work on, but like...when would he ever skip lunch to do homework?"

"Maybe college applications," James suggested.

Alex pressed her fingertips to her temples. "Oh, fuck," she groaned. "Those are due soon."

"And scholarship applications too," he added. "Maybe that's what's got Rossi stressed out."

Emily stood up to lean around Derek and grab a bottle of ketchup. "Well, there's a party in town coming up soon," she said. "Maybe that'll help him unwind."

"Or maybe you just want him to go to the party so you can go with him," James said.

Emily grinned. "I might have some ulterior motives," she said as she dumped ketchup over her fries. "I need to do something that isn't homework."

"You don't do your homework."

"I do sometimes."

"Well, I can go ahead and tell you that if there's anything going on over family weekend, Dave won't be available," James said. "His parents always make a big deal over that."

"Oh god, I'll have to find something to do during that," Emily said. "I guess you guys will all be busy with your families and shit?"

"Probably," Alex said. "You won't be?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Like the Ambassador would come over here from Italy for a three day weekend to talk about what I'm learning in school," she said.

"Oh, don't say it like that," Alex said. "I'm sure she cares, she's just busy."

"When I got expelled in Rome last year, she went to the _wrong school_ for the parent-teacher conference," Emily said dryly.

"Oh," Alex said. "Well…"

James frowned, his fork halfway to his mouth. "You got expelled?" he said. "What else are you hiding, Prentiss?"

She grinned. "I'm a woman of mystery, Blake," she said. "So is everyone else having family coming in for this thing? Am I going to have to remember eight million sibling names?" Alex covered her face with her hands and screeched in frustration. Emily jumped. "What the hell was that?"

"It's bad when she makes the pterodactyl noise," James explained.

Alex pressed her hands to her temples. "Danny and Scotty," she said. "My parents are going to make Danny and Scotty come with them for family weekend, and they're going to be absolute nightmares. I just know it."

"Your brothers are really that bad?" Derek said.

"It's every sitcom stereotype you've ever seen about jock brothers picking on their nerdy sister," Alex sighed. "And I cannot change the channel."

"Oh, that's bad," JJ said.

"You do scream overachieving middle child, now that I think about it," Emily teased.

Derek suddenly sat up. "Shit, Hotch and Spencer are here," he said. "You think they're okay?"

"Neither of them look great, actually," Penelope said.

"Yeah, Hotch kind of looks like a zombie," Emily added.

"I was thinking Edward Scissorhands."

"Oh, that's a good one."

Hotch dropped his backpack on an empty chair. "Hey," he said tersely. Spencer stood half-hidden behind him, his eyes downcast. "Did we miss anything?"

"Nothing at all," James said. "Everything okay?"

Alex held out her hand to Spencer, but he shook his head and drew back, his lower lip wobbling. She dropped her hand. "Alex, can I talk to you?" Hotch asked.

"Of course," she said, getting up quickly. "Spencer, go get something to eat."

He shook his head, but Derek slid his chair back from the table. "Come on, pretty boy, I'll help you out," he said.

"Let him eat whatever he wants today, I don't care what he eats as long as he eats something," Alex said.

"You got it, mama," Derek said, steering Spencer towards the line. Hotch took Alex by the wrist and tugged her over to a quiet corner.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Well, they only let me in the room for the first half of the conversation, when they basically told Spencer that if he'd just been a little nicer none of this would have happened," Hotch said bitterly. She stared at him in horror. "Yeah, that was my reaction too."

"Did he get in trouble? Is he being punished?" she demanded.

"He might have, if Gideon hadn't spoken up," Hotch said. He exhaled sharply. "God, I just wish they'd let me stay with him the whole time. I don't know what they said after I left, he won't tell me."

"Well, are they going to punish the kids that hurt him?" she said.

Hotch shrugged, his mouth drawing down. "I don't know," he said. "I didn't see any of them getting called into the office." He sagged back against the wall. "All I know is Dr. Ryan scolded him for 'engaging in retaliation' and warned him to be on his best behavior, but they'll move him out of all the classes he has with the kids who've been bullying him. And that his hair was too long and out of dress code, so he has to get it cut."

Alex looked across the dining hall, trying to catch a glimpse of Spencer in the crowd. She wanted to tell Hotch not to worry. She wanted to tell him that it was going to be okay. She wanted to tell him that everything would work out, and there'd be some sense of justice at the end of the day. But she didn't believe any of it herself, and the words died on her lips.

* * *

Spencer tugged the cuffs of his cardigan sleeves over his hands and kept his head down as he walked down the hall, blending into the crowd. Fourth period was finally over; if he got through the next two classes then that would mean that he survived the entire day. Alex and Hotch had told him that he didn't need to finish out the day if he didn't want to, that he could go back to his room and try to catch up on his sleep. Part of him really wanted to give in. He was so tired; he hadn't slept more than an hour or two the night before. But he needed to do this. He didn't know exactly why he felt so desperate to hold out, but he did.

His stomach hurt. But he could get through two classes. He could.

The grownups had told him that he just needed to be tougher, that it was inevitable that he'd get picked on and he just needed to learn how to handle it better. And he couldn't be a baby either, that being a crybaby about it would just make it worse for himself.

He walked into his history classroom, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Neal and Dallas were already there, twisted around in their seats to stare at him as he stood in the doorway. He took a deep, shuddering breath and took a step forward towards his desk.

Neal and Dallas stared him down. Spencer backed away, his chest constricting tight, and he broke into a run.

He tore through the emptied hallways as the bell rang, his backpack thumping against his spine. Hot tears smarted behind his eyes, blurring his vision. For some reason he couldn't breathe. He didn't know why. He didn't know why he couldn't just walk into the classroom and sit down at his desk and not be a crybaby.

His shoes skidded on the floor as he threw himself at the bathroom door and flung himself inside, tumbling the ground. The tile was ice cold under his palms and his backpack slid off his shoulders. He just needed to take a second to pull himself together, and then he could go back to the classroom like nothing had happened.

Spencer curled up against the floor, his ragged breathing roaring in his ears. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, and no matter how he fought it, he couldn't stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. And no one knew he was there, no one would know to look for him, it was happening again, no one would be able to find him...

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the phone Penelope had given him, the slick purple case slippery in his grip. The screen was a bright blur, but he fumbled for the app Penelope had made and pressed the button. It chimed pleasantly but he didn't bother to see if it was working; he dropped it to the floor and pulled desperately at the collar of his shirt, trying to catch his breath.

He tried to close his eyes. He tried to think of something else. He tried to tell himself that he was fine, that he was imagining all of this and it was all in his head. He curled himself tight against the wall, bracing himself.

His breathing caught in his throat, thin and thready and rattling in his lungs, and with his eyes closed he just saw Neal and Dallas staring at him, their smiles wolfish and hungry, and it felt like his heart was going to beat so fast that it would break through his ribs.

* * *

James felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he walked into the biology classroom and set down his backpack slowly as he frowned at the screen. The number texting him was unfamiliar, and when he unlocked the screen he saw a map with a blinking purple dot.

"What the hell is happening?" he mumbled, but then he read the text just above.

_this is the Spencer SOS- please come get me!_

"Oh, god, Penelope's app," he said to himself. He grabbed up his phone. "Uh...Dr. Cole? Did you have anything for me to do this period?"

Dr. Cole looked up from her computer. "Not particularly," she said. "Maybe some photocopying. Why, is something wrong?"

"Potentially," he said.

"Go on then," she said. "Don't worry about it, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you so much," he said, picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He liked working as a teacher's aide for Dr. Cole, but most likely everyone else was in class and wouldn't check their phones.

He opened the map and followed the blinking purple dot. The hallways were silent, just the faint murmur of teacher's voices behind closed doors. The map led him to a bathroom near the history classrooms, and he pushed the door open cautiously, afraid of what he might find.

Spencer curled up tight against the wall, gasping for breath. James dropped his backpack and knelt down next to him. "Hey, buddy, what happened?" he asked. Spencer yelped as he touched his back. "It's okay, Spencer, it's just me, it's James."

Spencer looked up at him, his eyes glassy. "I can't breathe," he whimpered.

James hoisted him into a sitting position, bracing his back against his chest. "You'll be okay, I've got you," he said. "Did somebody hurt you?" Spencer shook his head. "Did somebody scare you?" He nodded. James shifted him around so he could lean his head on his shoulder. "Okay, kiddo. I think you're having a panic attack."

He pried Spencer's cardigan off of him, then loosened his tie. Spencer kept gasping for air, his breath catching in half strangled sobs. "I want you to breathe in while I count to four, okay?" he said. "And then breathe out for four. Can you do that for me?"

He wasn't sure if Spencer agreed, but he started counting anyway. At first Spencer could barely follow him, but James stayed patient, and soon his breathing began to slow down and even out. James rubbed his back, slow and rhythmic, hoping the pressure would help ground him.

After a while Spencer leaned away from him, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "I can go back to class now," he said in a small, shaky voice.

"No, buddy, I think you're done with class for the day," James said. Spencer's lower lip trembled. "You did really good. You've had a tough day. Besides, I bet you're pretty tired now."

"Yeah," he admitted reluctantly.

"Tell you what," James said. "I'll text Alex and see if she can open the library early. Maybe Dave can pick up coffee or something. We'll just go chill there for awhile. How does that sound?"

Spencer nodded hesitantly. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. He rubbed his eyes. "All I did...all I did was just... _see_ them, and I-"

"Don't be sorry," James said. "Panic attacks are caused by stress and traumatic events. And I think it's safe to say that you've gone through both lately. Don't be so hard on yourself. I know that's easier said than done, but try to remember that, okay?"

Spencer nodded. James texted Alex first, then Dave, and waited for Spencer's breathing to completely slow back down to normal patterns. "Alex is on her way," he said at last. "Let's get out of here before classes are over and the halls get busy." He stood up and pulled Spencer to his feet, then picked up both backpacks. Spencer was pale and visibly shaky, but he walked alongside him out of the bathroom.

They were almost at the library when they heard it; there was a catwalk on the third floor that let them look down on a second floor flight of stairs and an open hall far below. First it was the raised voices, and then the heavy footsteps.

"What the hell is going on? What are you doing?"

"Your guardians are coming to pick you up."

"What about my stuff? Can't I go back to my dorm?"

"Your belongings will be sent back to you."

James leaned over the catwalk railing to see better. A tall redheaded boy in a St. Thaddeus uniform struggled in the grip of two of the school's security officers. "What the fuck?" he shouted. "Let go of me! Come on. This can't be happening!"

Spencer pressed himself against James's side. "He's one of them," he whispered.

"One of who?" James asked. Spencer didn't answer, but it clicked, and James leaned away from the railing.

The footsteps died down as a door shut heavily, and the protesting voice faded away. "Can we go see Alex now?" Spencer said in the hushed silence.

James took his hand. "Yeah, let's go see Alex," he said.

* * *

Derek walked into the common room and frowned. "Where is everybody?" he asked.

"Emily's cutting Spencer's hair in Hotch's bathroom, and there wasn't enough room for everyone so we got kicked out," Penelope said, her laptop screen reflecting in her glasses. "Once they're done we're going to dinner." She paused. "You're back early."

Derek dumped his football bag on the floor. "They cut practice short," he said. "Jayje, did you even go to soccer?"

"Nope, I skipped," JJ said. She turned a page in her book. Derek frowned, but he didn't press for more information. He had other things to think about.

He headed down the hallway to Hotch's room. Hotch was lying on his bed, his long gangly limbs stretched out with his eyes closed and his headphones on. James sat on his desk, and Dave was leaning against the bathroom doorway. "Hey," Derek said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just not sure it was a good idea to trust Prentiss with scissors," Dave said, peeking his head around the bathroom door. "We're really trusting Prentiss with scissors?"

Emily leaned out and snapped the scissors at him; Dave jumped back. "Listen, I've cut my hair on _so_ many occasions," she said. "I think you can trust me to cut Spencer's hair. I'm almost done and it looks pretty good, I think."

"Please be careful," James called.

"I will! I will! Jesus, it's like you think I'm going to cut one of his ears off or something," she said.

Derek looked into the bathroom. They'd pulled Hotch's desk chair into the bathroom; Spencer had a towel over his shoulders and his blanket in his hands. His long hair, newly shorn, littered the floor. "Are we done yet?" he asked.

"Almost," Emily said, clipping at another strand.

"You're doing really well," Alex told him. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, her hands on Spencer's knees. "And you look really nice with short hair."

Spencer squirmed as she cut off another piece. "Hold still, or she really will cut one of your ears off," Dave warned.

"David Rossi, don't scare him," Alex scolded.

"Is it over yet?" Spencer complained.

"Not yet, not yet," Emily said. She kept cutting and trimming, the silver scissor blades catching the light, and after a moment she took a step back and raked her fingers through his newly short hair, curling at the edges. "I think that's it. You're done."

Alex pulled the towel off his shoulders, shaking the loose shorn strands away, and he slipped down from the chair. "You look so different," Derek said.

"I'm gonna miss the little ponytail," Emily sighed.

Spencer stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, poking at his newly short hair. "Go show JJ and Pen, I'm sure they'll want to see," Dave said.

"Okay," Spencer said reluctantly, still holding onto his blanket as he headed down the hall to the common room.

As soon as he left, Derek closed the dorm room door and turned around. "Guys," he said. "Hotch, take your headphones off, this is important."

"Why? What's going on?" James said.

Alex tapped Hotch's ankle and he took off his headphones, frowning. "Did something happen?" she asked.

"I know what's happening to the jackasses that hurt Spencer," Derek said.

Hotch sat up. "What?" he said. "What do you know?"

"Well, they expelled Thornton," Derek said. "A couple of second-stringers got kicked off the football team. But everybody else just got suspended from the next football game, and then they're all back. Football players and cheerleaders. Maclain got bumped from quarterback, and Alexa Lisbon lost captain, but that's it."

"So it'll be like it never happened?" James said. "That's bullshit."

"Why did Thornton get expelled but no one else?" Davde said.

"Because he's Lincoln House, and everybody is in Roosevelt and Kennedy," Hotch said. "Let me guess. The people who just got suspended have parents who donated a lot of money?"

"Yeah, they told us we're getting a new team bus for away games," Derek said. "It's bullshit. It's total fucking bullshit. They think they can just throw some money around and now it won't even show up on their permanent records."

"There's nothing else they're going to do?" Alex said at last. "No other punishments? No consequences?"

"Not that I know of," Derek said. "I heard they're trying to figure out who lured Spencer out there, since he doesn't remember. Whoever told him to go out there will be in trouble. But whoever did it isn't saying anything, and no one else is fessing up."

"Jesus," Emily breathed. "This is fucked up."

The other kids fell silent, but the door opened and Spencer walked in. "They liked it," he said, but he didn't sound particularly excited about it. "And they want to know if we can go to dinner now."

Hotch got up. "Yeah, we can go," he said. He ran his fingers through Spencer's short hair. "You look good, kid."

"You know what?" Dave said. "Maybe this is what you needed, _passerotto_. A fresh start."

Spencer didn't seem convinced. He sidled up to Alex and leaned heavily against her. Alex swept his hair back and kissed his forehead. Derek wanted to punch something. This wasn't a fresh start. This was everything getting swept under the rug, and forgotten, but Spencer wasn't going to forget any time soon. None of them would.

But they had to keep moving forward, whether they liked it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021!! I'm back!!
> 
> If you follow me on tumblr, you might know that I've had a really rough couple of months. I was working my crazy holiday hours as a personalization artist at Animal Kingdom, and both me and my boyfriend had covid. It's...it's been a difficult time. 
> 
> But I'm excited to be back!! This took me a while to get this chapter up and running- I missed writing these babies, but also it was tough getting back into it. I had to take some breaks, and go back and do some rewrites, but I'm really happy with how it turned out, and I'm setting up a lot of new plotlines (I'm so excited to write family weekend, there's a lot of things that are going to happen.)
> 
> But please let me know what you think!! I'm so excited to be back to writing again!!


	20. crybaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life goes on, but trauma is hard to shake. it's easiest to see it in Spencer, but the other kids are hiding their own secrets.

_You seem to replace your_ _brain with your heart_  
 _You take things so hard and_ _then you fall apart_

_You try to explain, but_ _before you can start_  
 _Those cry baby tears come_ _out of the dark_

_Someone's turning the handle to_ _that faucet in your eyes_   
_They're pouring out where_ _everyone can see_

_Your heart's too big for your body, it's_ _why you won't fit inside_  
 _They're pouring out where_ _everyone can see_

_They call you cry baby, cry baby_   
_But you don't fucking care_   
_Cry baby, cry baby_   
_So you laugh through your tears_

_Cry baby, cry baby_   
_'Cause you don't fucking care_   
_Tears fall to the ground_   
_You just let them drop_

-"Crybaby" by Melanie Martinez

* * *

**tuesday**

Alex checked her phone as she waited for class to let out. Her last class of the day was Russian language, and her teacher was usually pretty lenient if she asked to leave a few minutes earlier to open the library- mostly because she was able to ask the question in Russian.

Today, though, she wasn't going to the library quite yet. She waited outside the ninth grade English composition classroom, listening to the teacher's voice through the closed door. Usually JJ or Penelope would walk him to the library, but JJ had soccer practice and Penelope had ukulele club, and Alex wasn't willing to let Spencer walk the hallways alone, not when everyone was talking about all of the suspensions and the expulsion. He already wasn't recovering well, no need to make it worse.

The bell rang and she dropped her phone in her blazer pocket as the door opened. Spencer tripped into the hallway, his half-zipped backpack dangling on one shoulder. "Alex!" he said.

"Slow down, darling, slow down," she laughed. She shifted his backpack to sit properly and zipped it shut the rest of the way. "You ready to go?"

He nodded and grabbed her hand. The hall was beginning to flood with other students spilling out of their classrooms, and in the sudden rush of movement and sound Spencer pressed himself tightly against her hip, making himself as small as possible.

"Alex, you have him?" JJ called over the chatter. Penelope waved anxiously at them, already separated in the crowd.

"I have him," she called back. "You two have fun, we'll see you at dinner." She looked down at Spencer and squeezed his hand. "You're okay, sweetheart. Let's go."

At first she'd been pleased to see that he'd made it through classes, but now she wasn't sure if that was a sign of progress or just sheer stubbornness. Yesterday it had been terrifying to get the text from James that Spencer was having a panic attack. She'd unlocked the library early, hoping that some peace and quiet would help him. It seemed to help, but by the time class was over and the rest of the kids came to join them he'd cried himself to sleep in her arms.

She unlocked the library doors and ushered him inside as she turned on the lights. "Go get a snack before everyone else gets here," she said. "Do you have any homework?"

He shrugged his backpack off and set it down at their usual table. "Just some math problems," he said. "I don't think I want a snack, though, thanks."

Alex frowned. He'd barely eaten breakfast and even less at lunch. "Well, we'll go to dinner as soon as we can," she said.

She put her things away at her desk and took off her blazer, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. It didn't take long before students began to file into the library; James and Dave walked in with cup trays from the Honeybean in their hands. "Coffee two days in a row?" Alex said. "What's the occasion?"

"Dave wanted coffee, and I gave in to peer pressure, and then I figured it wouldn't be fair if we didn't bring drinks back for everyone else," James grinned. He set his carrier down on the table and placed a cup in front of Spencer, then handed her an iced chai latte.

"Did you get him decaf?" Alex asked. "Please tell me you got him decaf."

"It's a hot chocolate," James reassured her as he pulled out a cold brew cup and set it down at Hotch's usual seat.

Dave placed a little paper bag in front of Spencer. "Please eat that, _passerotto_ ," he said. "You barely ate anything at lunch."

Spencer made a face, but peeked inside and brightened. "Thank you!" he said, plucking gingerly at the cupcake wrapper.

James ruffled his hair lightly. "The haircut looks good on you, kiddo," he said.

"It's a lot easier to maintain than long hair, I have to admit," Spencer said. He tore off a bit of the pink-frosted cupcake and popped it in his mouth. "It's a lot less tangled."

His sunburn was faded now too; spots of white peeling skin and a brand new crop of freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks were the last reminders on his face. But she'd seen him wince on more than a few occasions, so the burns probably still lingered on his shoulders and back.

Hotch walked in and threw his backpack down on the floor. "Guess who has detention?" he said.

"You?" Dave asked as he set up his macbook.

"No, Prentiss," Hotch said. "Turns out she hasn't done any of her trig homework since the semester started."

"Oh, yikes," James said. "That's not good."

"She's been in a bad mood for a couple of days now," Dave said. "Hayden invited me to a bonfire on Thursday night, maybe I'll take Emily along with me. That might cheer her up."

"That seems like the opposite of a good idea to me. She needs to stay and get her homework done." Hotch paused and looked down at the cold brew on the table. "Is this for me?" he asked, surprised.

"No one else drinks that stuff, so yeah, I guess it's yours," Dave said.

Hotch picked it up and surveyed it warily. "There's nothing in it, right?" he said. "No sugar, no milk?"

"Nope, just cold bean water," James said. "How can you drink it like that?" Hotch just shrugged and downed a quarter of it in one gulp.

Alex got up from the table. "I'm going to go shelve for a little bit," she said. "Call me if you need me."

Spencer tilted his head back. "Do you need help? I can come with you," he said.

She bent over him and kissed the tip of his nose. "No, stay here and do your homework, and eat your cupcake," she said. "I'm sure Bubba and Jamie can help you if you get stuck on proofs."

"Why can't I help?" Dave protested. "And why don't I have a cute nickname?"

"Because you can't do math without a calculator, and you don't strike me as the cute nickname type," Alex said. "I'll be back."

She grabbed the cart and dragged it along with her up and down the aisles. It was easy, repetitive work, and she never minded it. Shelving was almost meditative after a long day of classes, a steady rhythm and a comforting sense of order as she put each book back where it belonged.

She placed a book on a bottom shelf and straightened up, and found herself staring directly at a person who wasn't there a second ago. "Oh my god!" she shrieked.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," John said hastily, his blue eyes wide. "I'm so sorry."

Alex leaned back against the shelves, her hand against her wildly thumping heart. "Jesus, John, you scared me," she gasped.

"I'm so sorry, Alex, I honestly didn't mean to, I just saw you over here, and- really, I'm so embarrassed," he stammered. "I finished Human Croquet and was wondering if you had any other recommendations."

She pulled the end of her ribbon and shook her hair loose. "Oh," she sighed. "Yeah, sure...let me think." She tied her hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. "Um...The Night Strangers by Chris Bohjalian is a pretty good read. Not quite as in depth as Human Croquet, but it's got a really good twist."

Suddenly a small blur darted down the aisle and flung himself against her. "Alex, are you okay?" Spencer demanded. "What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine," she said. Spencer wrapped his arms tight around her waist and buried his face in her stomach. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you crying?" She looked up at John. "Sorry, he's...he's upset."

"Aw, it's all right, I was a crybaby at that age too," John said, clearly attempting to be helpful.

Alex pressed her hand to the back of Spencer's head. "He's not a crybaby," she said. "Do you still need my help?"

"No, don't worry about it," John said. "I can find the book on my own. Bohjalian, right?" She nodded. "Thanks. I'll see you around."

As soon as he walked away Alex knelt down, pulling Spencer away just enough so that she could see his face. "I'm fine," she said softly. "John just startled me, that's all."

Another student walked by and Spencer jumped, grabbing onto her shoulders and pulling her hair in the process. She glanced back at the student frowning at the shelves, and then turned back to Spencer, switching to Russian. "Did it scare you?" she asked. He nodded. "Did you think somebody hurt me?" He nodded again, his chin trembling. Alex pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm okay, I promise. Nobody's going to hurt me. And nobody's going to hurt you, okay? We won't let anybody hurt you again, ever."

She caught Hotch's eye as he walked into the row. "I thought that was you," he said. "You sound like a bird chattering like that." He knelt down beside them and rested his hand against Spencer's back. "You okay, kid?"

Spencer nodded, his breath catching in sharp quick sobs. She slid to sit crosslegged on the floor and tugged him down to sit on her lap, his cheek pressed against her chest. "Can you hear my heartbeat?" she asked. He nodded. "Then just do that for right now. Listen to my heartbeat."

It took longer than she liked, but slowly he began to quiet, his breathing lengthening and relaxing. Hotch sat beside them, silent and still. After a while Spencer inhaled deeply and shifted his weight. "I'm not a crybaby," he said.

"No, you're not," Hotch said firmly. "You ready to go back?" He smiled at him. "You've still got half a cupcake to finish, you know."

Spencer sort of smiled at that, and Hotch picked him up to set him on his feet, then held out his hand to Alex. "Come on, Birdy," he said.

Alex frowned. "What?"

"I told you I'd have to come up with a nickname for you," Hotch said, grinning. "Come on, Birdy." She grinned back and grabbed his hand.

* * *

**wednesday**

Derek jogged down the stairs to the ninth grade hallways. He'd been tasked with taking Spencer from his fourth period math class to his new tenth grade history class- the same class he was in. Alex had spelled everything out for him exactly- what classroom he would be in, which textbook he needed to turn in and which one he needed to pick up, which students to avoid. That, at least, Derek knew already.

He'd gone back to football practice to find his teammates in an uproar over all of the changes. It really was a lot to process- Maclain's demotion from quarterback, the teammates who were suspended, losing Thornton entirely. He still heard whispers here and there about Spencer, but no one dared to say it to his face, not now that he'd been moved front and center at football practice. The coaches liked him. Everyone knew it. And no one could deny that he was a good player. One of the best, maybe.

"Hey, pretty boy!" Derek called. "C'mere." Spencer caught up to him, his small hands holding tight to the straps of his backpack. "You ready for your new history class?"

"Uh-huh," Spencer said. "Hopefully it'll be a little more challenging than the class I've been in."

"Well, I think this class is pretty tough, but for you it'll probably be a walk in the park," Derek laughed. "How many history books have you read?"

Spencer scrunched his nose. "That's too broad a question," he said. "I've read a lot of books that could be considered history. You'll need to narrow it down."

"I'll just take your word for it," Derek said.

Spencer bit his lip as they approached the classroom. "You've got my new textbook?" he said.

"Yep, it's in my backpack," Derek said. "And there's an empty seat next to me, so don't worry about finding a desk." He squeezed Spencer's shoulder lightly, but the younger boy didn't seem assured. "You'll like it, it's a good class. You'll be fine."

He walked into the classroom and nudged Spencer forward. "You're sure you have my book?" Spencer asked.

"Positive, Alex put it in my bag herself," Derek promised. "She even got you a new folder so you don't have to look at the old one." He dropped his backpack in his usual desk. "Put your stuff on the one next to mine, and then go talk to the teacher."

Spencer obeyed, and Derek unpacked the new book as Haley Brooks sat down in the desk at his other side. "Hey, Derek," she said as she unpacked her Vera Bradley backpack. "I forgot to tell you yesterday, you did great at the game on Friday."

He flashed a smile at her. "Thanks," he said. "It was, uh...kind of a crazy night."

Haley set her monogrammed pencil case on her desk, then paused. "Oh, is that Aaron's little brother?" she asked.

Derek frowned and looked around in confusion. "Who?" he said. "You mean Spencer?"

"Yeah, somebody said that's his brother," Haley said as she set two pencils on her desk. "And his sister's a senior."

"His sister?" Derek echoed.

"The redheaded librarian girl," Haley explained. "Somebody said they're twins, she just skipped a grade."

"Yeah, no, they're-" Derek started to say.

"All right, everybody, take your seats," the teacher called. Spencer slipped into the desk beside Derek. His feet dangled a good couple of inches off the floor. "We're going to start on chapter three. I hope everybody remembered their books. Tobias, honey, where's your book?"

"I forgot it, ma'am."

The teacher sighed. "See if someone will share with you," she said. "All right, everybody else ready?"

Derek caught Spencer's eye and flashed him a smile and a thumb's up. Spencer tentatively smiled back.

* * *

**thursday**

Emily dropped her phone on her lap and leaned her cheek on her hand, staring out the window at the sea of trees rolling past. They were in the middle of the dead zone on the way into town, no use wasting her battery.

Dave glanced at her as he drove. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

He took a sip of his energy drink and dropped the can back into the pristine cupholder. "You wanna talk about what's bothering you?" he asked.

"Nothing's bothering me, Grandpa," she shot back.

There wasn't any point in talking about what was bothering her. Mostly because she wasn't sure what was bothering her. Maybe it was family weekend coming up. Maybe it was detention (again). Maybe it was the stack of missing math homework that she had to get done by Friday (or else).

Dave frowned. "Grandpa?" he said. "Not even Dad, you went right to Grandpa?"

She grinned. "It seems to suit you better," she said. Dave grumbled something under his breath. "So how's it going with Hayden?"

"Fine, I guess," he said. "Why? You hear otherwise?"

"James just said that he's never seen you stick with one girl for this long before," she said. "Other than...what was her name? Caroline?"

"It was Carolyn, and don't listen to James, he's been waiting for the right time to ask out Alex for three years, he has no idea what he's talking about," Dave scoffed. He glanced over at her. "What about you? Seems like that one guy last time was paying a lot of attention to you."

Emily shrugged and examined her hands, picking at the fresh black polish she'd hastily slapped on her nails on the way out the door. It didn't look great, but that was fine. She felt more like herself with sloppy black polish and her piercings back in place.

"So what happens at a bonfire, anyway?" she asked, changing the subject.

"It's a bonfire."

She frowned. "That's...that's it?" she said. "Just a fire?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Dave said. "It's a big fire, everybody hangs out, there's drinks...sometimes people bring stuff for hot dogs and s'mores."

"Hold on, those are real things?" she said, sitting up as the seatbelt pulled at her shoulder. "I thought they just got made up for movies."

"What, s'mores? Yeah, they're real," Dave said. He turned his car down a bumpy dirt road. "Too much sugar for my taste, though."

"I don't care, I'm trying them," Emily said.

Dave pulled over into a stream of crookedly-parked cars in a field full of mashed grass. The sun was just barely beginning to set, turning the edges of the sky pink and purple, and she could see groups of people in twos or threes hanging out just past a fence marking off a pasture.

"Remember, we need to leave by nine-fifteen if I'm going to get you back to campus by room checks," Dave warned as he got out of the driver's seat and closed the door. "Alex is still on thin ice with Strauss, I'm not going to put her in more trouble by making her cover for you if you're missing."

"All right, Grandpa, I won't forget," Emily said.

"Stop calling me that," Dave grumbled.

She smirked behind his back as he stomped away, but she didn't follow him. The old feelings crept in, that unsettling sense of loneliness, everything so clear and so sharp that it had to have been written all over her face. It didn't matter where she was with or who she was with- she never found a place to fit in. She shouldn't have come here in the first place.

"Hey, Emily!" a voice called.

She glanced up to see Ian striding over towards her. "Hey," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms over her stomach. "I didn't know you were coming to this."

"I didn't know you were coming either," he said. He smiled at her. "You haven't been answering my texts."

"School's been kicking my ass," she said.

He laughed. "Is American school that much harder than school in Europe?" he teased. "I figured a smart girl like you could sweep in and outdo everybody."

"Yeah, you'd think that, but my roommate has read every book ever written and hasn't gotten a grade lower than an A- in her life," Emily said dryly.

"Well, I can guarantee you're smarter than everybody here," Ian said. "Come on, I'll prove it to you. Come meet my friends."

She hesitated. "You're sure about that?" she said.

"Positive," he said, and when he held out her hand she took it, his fingers lacing through hers.

He held her hand for most of the night, gripping hers in an almost reassuring possessiveness. She met his friends, and he laughed at everything she said, and when she told stories about Rome and the Ukraine she was peppered with questions, as if she was the most fascinating person they'd ever met.

She sat with them around the bonfire as the sky faded to dark velvet, scattered with stars that she never saw in the cities she'd lived in across the ocean, hip to hip with Ian with a bottle of something cold and somehow sour in her hands. The night's humidity faded to something softer, and the heat of the fire was alluring rather than oppressive. Ian taught her how to roast marshmallows, helping her untwist the coathanger and covering his hands with hers as she held it tentatively towards the flames, and she shrieked with laughter as her first attempts dripped and oozed into the fire. The scent of woodsmoke soaked into her hair and her thoughts went fuzzy as the alcohol buzzed in her veins, and when Ian leaned in to kiss her she kissed him back, his lips sugar sweet and sticky with chocolate against hers.

* * *

**friday**

Hotch jerked awake as his phone buzzed inches away from his head. His heart raced for a split second, but as he blinked rapidly the darkness settled into the familiar shadows of his own dorm room. He sank back against his pillows and rubbed his eyes as he squinted at his phone screen.

**Derek Morgan  
1:48am  
** _SOS kids in trouble_

"What the fuck does that mean?" he mumbled as he forced himself to get out of bed.

It had to be Spencer. But he wasn't sure what kind of trouble he meant. A nightmare, probably. Maybe he threw up again. He really hoped he hadn't thrown up again.

He walked down the silent barely-lit hallways and made his way over to Derek and Spencer's room. Carefully he opened the door, trying not to make too much noise.

He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he was surprised to see Spencer out of bed, pulling at the covers. Derek seemed to be asleep, his back turned towards them.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Hotch whispered. "Are you okay?" Spencer jumped back, stumbling away from him. "Hey, hey, it's just me. What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Spencer shook his head vehemently. Hotch frowned. "Get back into bed then, get some sleep," he said. "Why are you taking the covers off? Did you get sick?"

Spencer shook his head again, turning away from him and yanking viciously at the blankets. Hotch knelt down beside him. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" he asked. "I don't care what it is, I'll help you."

In the dim light he could see the bright tear tracks on Spencer's cheeks as he went completely still. Hotch looked over at the bed and the rumpled sheets, and his heart sank. "Oh," he said. "Did...did you have an accident?"

Spencer's face crumpled and he hid behind his hands, his shoulders shaking. Hotch leaned against him gently until Spencer dropped his head to his shoulder. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay, kiddo."

He pressed his hand to his back, letting him sob silently into the crook of his neck as he wracked his brain about what the hell he was supposed to do. This was too far out of his league.

"You want me to call Alex?" he asked. "I know she'll come over if-"

Spencer shook his head, a sob catching in his throat, and Hotch squeezed him gently. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I won't call her."

He needed to figure out something to help the kid. He just wasn't sure what. "Let's do this," he said, leaning back and tugging Spencer just far enough away so he could see his face. "Go grab some clothes, and you can get cleaned up in my bathroom. I'll take care of this. Can you do that?"

Spencer nodded and scrubbed at his tearstained cheeks before pulling away from him. Hotch tilted his phone screen so he could see enough to dig through his dresser and pick out clean clothes, then sent him out into the hallway.

As soon as he was out of the room, Derek sat up and turned on his bedside lamp. "God, I'm glad you got here," he said.

"What happened?" Hotch asked, squinting the sudden surge of light.

Derek rested his arms on his knees. "Not totally sure," he said. "I woke up because the kid was talking in his sleep. I was just about to go over there and wake him up when he jumped up and started crying."

Hotch started stripping the sheets off the bed. "I'm glad you texted me," he said. "Jesus. This is gonna set him back even farther, won't it?"

"He was doing so well," Derek said. "He's doing great in his new history class with me."

"Yeah, well, they won't take him out of gym or move him to a different English class," Hotch said.

Derek was quiet for a moment. "Is this...is this because he's still upset?" he ventured.

"It's not an upset thing," Hotch said. "It's trauma. It's a trauma thing. He's a little kid trying to process that a bad thing happened to him." He tossed Spencer's favorite blanket over his shoulder and gathered up the wet sheets. "And let's be honest, if he's not talking about what happened to him before he got here, it might not be the only thing he's trying to process." He wadded the sheets up under his arm. "It goes without saying that we're not talking about this to anybody else. Nobody needs to know. Maybe Alex, but only if he chooses to tell her."

"Yeah, yeah, for sure," Derek said.

"I'll be back," Hotch said. "Get some sleep."

He went out into the hallway and closed the door behind him, then headed back to his room. The bathroom door was closed but he could hear the shower running. Spencer had left his clothes in the smallest pile possible on the floor.

The laundry room was empty but the white fluorescent lights were too bright for it to possibly seem creepy. He threw everything into the nearest washer, poured in the detergent, and turned it on.

When he got back to his room, Spencer had just stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in clean pajamas and his short hair damp. He shrank back at the sight of him, and Hotch pretended not to notice. "Hey, kiddo," he said. He sat down on his bed and patted the space beside him. "C'mere."

Spencer sidled closer to him, but didn't sit down. "Do you feel better?" Hotch asked. A slight nod. "And nothing else is bothering you- no headaches, stomachaches, anything like that?" He shook his head. Hotch touched the back of his hand lightly to his forehead. "You don't feel warm. That's good."

Spencer still hadn't spoken. Hotch pulled the blanket off his shoulders and draped it around him. "Come here," he said, and he picked Spencer up and set him beside him on the bed. "You know you're not in trouble, right? I'm not going to yell at you. I'm not mad."

He dropped his gaze, knotting his small hands together on his lap. "I promise," Hotch said. "These things happen, okay? It's a trauma response."

Spencer's eyes welled up. "I'm not traumatized," he said, bitter and raspy. "I just got bullied."

"Hey," Hotch said, a little too sharply. "Hey, don't talk like that. You-" He broke off midsentence. He wasn't qualified for this. Especially as his mind helpfully supplied him with reminders of his own memories he'd never properly dealt with.

Now was not the time for his own issues.

"Listen. It's two in the morning. All I need you to know right now is that you're okay, and I'm not mad at you, and nobody's going to know about this except you and me."

He didn't need to know about Derek.

"You can tell Alex if you want to, but you don't have to," he continued. "We can deal with the rest of this stuff later, but right now you just need to get some sleep. Do you want to stay with me, or do you want to go back to your own room?"

Spencer rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. "With you," he said in a small voice.

Hotch sighed. "Move over, then."

He turned off the lights and laid down. Spencer curled up beside him, holding tight to his blanket, and for a brief moment he was reminded of Sean crawling into his bed to sleep with him after a bad dream.

"Goodnight, kid," he said aloud, and Spencer mumbled a goodnight back, pressed close to his side.

* * *

**saturday**

"I call shotgun!"

"No! I have shotgun! I always call shotgun!"

Spencer hung back as the bigger kids bickered, leaning against Alex. "Children, children, why are we fighting?" Penelope asked, sliding her pink heart-shaped sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose.

"Hotch always gets shotgun!" JJ complained. "It's my turn."

"I have to get shotgun," Hotch said. "It's a permanent claim."

"Why? Why do you have a permanent claim on shotgun? That's not fair!"

Hotch shifted his weight. "You know, it's...I mean, I'm the oldest-"

"No, you're not, you're a middle child at best!"

Derek slipped past them to climb into the backseat of Dave's car. "He has to call shotgun because he's the most carsick motherfucker you'll ever meet," he called before slamming the door.

Emily turned on her heel, smirking at Hotch. "Are you serious?" she said.

The back of Hotch's neck turned bright red. "No!" he said. "I mean...no, well, I-"

"Okay, okay, stop picking on him," Dave interrupted. "JJ, you can ride in the front seat with me. Hotch, go ride shotgun with Blake. His car is already a disaster."

The red had traveled all the way up to Hotch's ears. "I do _not_ get carsick," he protested.

"My car's not that much of a disaster," James said. He glanced over at his Nissan Versa. "Well...it's kind of a disaster."

"Okay, now that we have this settled, can we go?" Emily said. "I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go," Dave said, herding Penelope and JJ towards his car.

Spencer climbed into his booster seat in the back of James's car and clicked the belt into place. "Dude, do you really get carsick?" James asked as he dropped into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition.

"Shut up," Hotch grumbled. "Is the air on?"

"Oh, hang on," James said. He smacked the radio a few times and the air rattled on. "There we go."

Alex buckled her seatbelt in the seat next to Spencer as James backed the car out of its space. "Are you doing okay, darling?" she asked softly. "You've been really quiet lately."

Spencer nodded, and when she held out her hand he took it. She was right, he hadn't said much over the past day or two. He also hadn't told her what had happened, or that the next night he'd woken up gasping for breath, feeling the summer heat burning his skin and the ropes cutting into him, and had had to run down the hall to Hotch's room to feel safe again. Maybe he'd tell her at some point. Or maybe he could just forget about it for now.

James and Hotch chatted in the front seat, their voices blurring with the indie playlist on the stereo. The AC blew ice cold and soothing, and Alex rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand as she read her book. A shuddering sigh broke from him, and he leaned his head against the window.

The exhaustion pulled him under so fast it was like drowning, and he didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he felt someone lift him out of the car. "Did he fall asleep?" he heard James ask.

"Yeah, poor baby," Alex said, and he realized she was the one holding him, setting him on her hip and leaning his head on her shoulder. "He fell asleep about five minutes into the drive and he's still out like a light."

"He hasn't been sleeping well," Hotch said quietly.

"That doesn't surprise me. He's gone through a lot. And it's only been a little over a week since…" James's voice trailed off. "He just needs some more time."

Alex adjusted Spencer on her hip. "He's so much heavier when he's sleeping," she said. "Jesus. It's like he turns into a lead weight."

"I can carry him," Hotch offered.

"No, no, I've got him."

Spencer kept feigning sleep as they left the parking lot and joined up with the rest of the group. He really was tired. And it was safer to sleep in the middle of the day, nestled in the safety of Alex's arms, than it was to try to fall asleep in his own bed in the dark.

"So where are we going first?" Emily asked. "When you said we were going into town, I thought it was going to be another Target trip. This...is not Target. This is not what I was promised."

"No, this is historic downtown Auden's Ridge," James said, a smile in his voice. "It's cute, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Emily said. "Super cute."

Spencer cracked one eye open to take a peek while the rest of the kids argued about where to go. Downtown Auden's Ridge looked like it was straight out of a Normal Rockwell painting, all small quaint shops and old oak trees and red brick sidewalks. He raised his head to get a better look.

"Good morning, sunshine," Alex said. "Did you have a good nap? You slept the whole drive."

"Uh-huh," he said, still faintly sleepy.

"Really, Birdy, I can carry him," Hotch said.

"I can walk on my own, I'm awake," he said, and Alex let him slide to the ground. "Where are we going?"

"Not sure," JJ said, kicking at a rock. "Penelope won't shut up about going to the bubble tea place, though."

"I love bubble tea!" Penelope exclaimed, clapping her hands for emphasis. "We need to go."

"I don't want to chew my tea," JJ countered.

"I want to go over there," Derek said, pointing to a bakery across the street. "Everybody says that place has the best pies."

Dave laughed. "James, you want to take this one?" he said.

"No, I think we should just go over there," James said. "But yeah, I agree. Definitely the best pies."

Spencer trailed behind the other kids as they crossed the street, still a little drowsy. It was a pretty day, with a gentle breeze that ruffled his short hair, and the leaves on the trees were beginning to spike into gold and orange at the edges. Alex took his hand as they walked into the bakery, the brass bell jingling overhead.

The bakery was small, but the air smelled like freshly baked bread and cinnamon sugar. "I'll be there in a second!" a man called from the back.

"Oh my god, this place is so cute," Penelope said. "I'm in love."

"I just want to eat everything," JJ said as she peered into the glass case full of cakes and pies and cookies.

Derek leaned in next to her, their shoulders touching. "Yeah, those peanut butter cookies are great, that's what I usually get," he said.

"You're still not going to tell them, James?" Alex said.

"No, no, I'm waiting," James said. He went over to the counter and slapped the hotel bell repeatedly. "This is fun for me. I'm usually terrible at surprises."

A tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy brown hair walked out of the back in a black tee shirt smeared with flour, wiping his hands on a towel. "Hi, sorry, I had brioche I had to get out of the oven, and they know what they say about brioche," he said.

Emily made a face. "Do they say things about brioche?" she said.

"Not sure, actually. How can I help you?" the man said. He stopped when he saw James. "Oh! It's just you."

"Really, Dad, that's all you have to say?" James laughed. "You're not excited to see your favorite child?"

"You're my only child, unless there's something your mother hasn't told me in the last twenty years," the man said.

"Wait, wait, wait," Penelope said. "Your dad? This is your dad?"

"Don't you see the resemblance?" James said, leaning his elbows back against the counter. "Everybody, this is my dad, Ned. Ned, this is everybody."

"Please don't call me Ned, it's very weird hearing you call me by my first name," Ned said. He surveyed the gaggle of kids in the shop. "I know a couple of you. David, Alexandra, nice to see you again." He squinted as he looked at everybody else, an expression that Spencer had seen James make dozens of times. "I'm not sure about the rest of you."

James ran through roll call, pointing them each out in turn. Ned peered around the counter. "Which one is Spencer?" he said.

Spencer raised his hand and stood on tiptoes so he could be seen. "Marie Antoinette probably didn't say 'let them eat cake,' she probably said 'let them eat brioche' instead," he said. "Actually, it's more likely that she didn't say it at all."

Ned grinned. "Ah, so you're Spencer," he said.

"Where's Mom?" James asked.

"She's in the back, sorting googly eyes by size," Ned said.

"Your mother is what, now?" Penelope said.

"She's a kindergarten teacher," James explained. "This is pretty par for the course for her."

Ned folded the dishtowel in his hands. "You guys want some cookies?" he asked. "I've made too many gingercakes."

JJ brightened. "Yes, please!" she said. "Thanks, Mr. Blake."

Emily froze and grabbed James's arm. "Oh my god," she said.

"Ow?" he said.

"Your parents have a bakery," she said. "You. The Blakes. Have a bakery."

"Yeah, they opened it before I was born, I didn't have much of a say," James said. "Can you please stop squishing my arm?"

"James," Emily said solemnly. "It's a _Blakery_."

Alex burst out laughing. "Oh my god, how did we not think about that before?" she said.

A slim woman with dark hair tied into a ponytail leaned out of the door to the back. "Oh, no, I thought of that, and Ned said no," she said.

"I thought of a different pun," Ned objected.

"Yes, well, the Blakery is still a better pun," the woman said.

"How are the googly eyes going, Mom?" James asked.

"Oh, it could be worse," she said, leaning her arms on the counter. She was a good foot shorter than her broad-shouldered husband, and she wore a yellow apron over her clothes. "Hi, everybody. I'm Jamie's mom, I'm Charlotte. Well, Charlie, actually, nobody calls me Charlotte. Who wants pie?"

"Me!" Derek said. "I'm starving."

"You're always starving."

"It's because-"

"Football, yes, we know you play football."

Spencer tried to step around the bigger kids, but they crowded around the glass case and he couldn't see. "Hotch, do you want something?" James asked.

Hotch took a step back. "No, no, I'm okay, thanks," he said.

"Oh, come on, you don't want anything?" Dave said.

Spencer grabbed onto Hotch's arm to pull himself up and see better. "I can't see, can you pick me up, please?" he asked.

"Just a second, kiddo," Hotch said. "Yeah, Dave, I'm sure. I don't really like sweets."

"Oh, we have lots of not-sweet stuff," Charlie said, leaning her elbows on the countertop as Ned started pulling things out of the case. "What kind of stuff do you like? I hope you like bread, we have a lot of bread."

"Hotch, I can't see, they're in the way," Spencer said. Frustration bubbled in his chest. "Please?"

"Spencer, you're fine, stop pulling on him like that, just give him a second," Alex said.

"I'm okay, Mrs. Blake, really," Hotch said, taking a step back from the counter. "Thanks, though."

They weren't listening to him, and he didn't know why they weren't listening to him. " _Hotch_ ," he whined, pulling on his sleeve again.

"Oh, come on, _passerotto_ , stop fussing," Dave teased as he ruffled his hair. "Don't be such a crybaby about it. What do you want, I'll get it for you."

He jerked back as if he'd been slapped. "I'm not a crybaby," he said, his lower lip trembling. "I'm not. I'm not a crybaby."

"I'm just teasing," Dave said. "C'mere. Which one do you want?"

"I'm not a crybaby!" he insisted, but it was too late, and the first tear rolled down his cheek. He hid his face in his hands.

"Spencer, what's wrong?" Alex asked, shocked, and he fumbled for her blindly, gripping tight to her arm. "Why are you crying? Dave was just teasing."

He didn't know why he was crying. But he also couldn't stop. He was so tired. He was so tired of being upset all the time, and being scared, and he was so tired of crying.

Alex picked him up and he didn't fight her. "Charlie, can I take him in the back office?" she asked. "Just until he calms down?"

"Absolutely, sweetheart, take all the time you need."

He held onto her tightly as she carried him behind the counter and into a cozily cluttered back office. She sat down in a comfortably worn-out armchair and settled him on her lap, leaning his head on her shoulder.

He tried to stop crying. He really did. But he bawled into her shoulder instead, gripping the shoulders of her dress, sobbing until he didn't have any energy left in his body. Alex rocked him slowly.

The door creaked open and he heard gentle footsteps. "Everything okay?" he heard Charlie ask.

"Uh-huh," Alex whispered. "I think he's asleep."

He wasn't, but he was right on the verge, and he kept his eyes closed. He heard the faint clink of a plate and cup placed on the desk and the squeak of Charlie sitting down at the desk chair. "I figured he could use a snack once he wakes up," she said. "I see this with my kindergartners all the time. A nap and a snack works wonders after a bad cry."

"He's not in kindergarten, though," Alex said. "Is this...is this normal?"

Charlie laughed softly. "Kids cry," she said. "How old is he?"

"He'll be ten next month."

"That's at a hard age," Charlie said.

"But it's so strange," Alex countered. "One minute he's able to talk like an adult and he's doing trigonometry, and the next he's melting down."

"That would be the trauma," Charlie said. "James told me what's been happening to him. It's absolutely horrific. What did his mother say?"

Alex was quiet for a moment. "I don't think he has a mother," she said. "He...he doesn't talk about his parents. He's never once cried for her, not even at his worst. He cries for me or for Hotch."

"Oh, that worries me," Charlie said. "A baby that little usually would want his mom."

Spencer kept his eyes closed and said nothing. Alex hugged him a little closer. "He's been crying so much," she said. "He panics a lot, and I can't...I don't know what I can do to help him."

She cleared her throat, the sound thick and wet, and Charlie leaned across the desk. "Honey, don't beat yourself up," she said. "You're seventeen years old. You're still a baby yourself. You're doing your best, and that little boy clearly trusts you."

"I'm trying," Alex sighed. "What can I do? What can help him?"

"Well, time, most importantly," Charlie said. "Time helps. He'll bounce back eventually, especially if he knows he has you and the other kids to rely on. He needs boundaries, things that make him feel secure." She paused. "Lord, can you imagine if he didn't have any of you kids to look out for him?"

The thought passed through his mind and involuntarily he curled towards Alex, his nose pressed into her collarbone. She kissed the top of his head lightly. "Is there anything else we can do other than time and boundaries?" she asked.

"Give him time to calm down, just like you're doing now," Charlie said. "He needs breaks. James says he's in ninth grade- what does he do when he's not in class or does homework?"

"He reads, mostly," Alex said. "We got him some Legos too, he'll play with those sometimes."

"Oh, he needs more than that," Charlie said. "He's a little kid! He needs to run around and play with other kids his age."

"Spencer isn't exactly the run around and play type," Alex said.

"You'd be surprised," Charlie said. The office chair squeaked in protest as she got up. "Time, attention, rest, socialization. He'll be okay eventually, I promise. Even if it doesn't seem like it now." Charlie stepped closer to Alex and squeezed her shoulder. "And I'm proud of you, honey. Seems like yesterday James was bringing his new school friends over to watch cartoons and work on homework. You've grown up so much."

"Thanks, Charlie," Alex said.

"Take as much time as you need, sweetheart," she said. "Make sure he eats, okay? Tell me or Ned if you want more."

"I will."

Spencer kept feigning sleep as the office door clicked shut. Alex sighed heavily, as if she was trying to ease a heavy load from her shoulders. "We love you, okay?" she said aloud. "We all love you. And you're going to be okay. No more doing this alone."

She shifted him around so she could cuddle him closer and he leaned into her. Later he could try harder, work harder to get past everything, but right then he just wanted to be held while everything was peaceful and quiet, the only sound in the room Alex's heartbeat and her soft humming, the vibration of her collarbone soothing under his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY THIS CHAPTER WAS A LOT.
> 
> this is actually half of what I had outlined, but it reached 7500 words and I realized I needed to break it in half. And everything is still very Spencer-centric, but hopefully you can see where I'm laying the groundwork for plotlines with a lot of the other kids! I have a lot of things I'm looking forward to.
> 
> Also I love Ned and Charlie Blake. I love them so very very much.
> 
> Let me know what you think!! Thank you so much for reading!!


	21. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some things get better, some things get worse, and some things lurk ominously in the distance

_And I've been meaning to tell you  
I think your house is haunted_   
_Your dad is always mad and that must be why_   
_I think you should come live with me_   
_And we can be pirates_   
_Then you won't have to cry_   
_Or hide in the closet_   
_And just like a folk song_   
_Our love will be passed on_

_Please, picture me in the weeds_   
_Before I learned civility_   
_I used to scream ferociously_   
_Any time I wanted_

-"Seven" by Taylor Swift

* * *

**sunday**

"Um. Hi. Excuse me. What are you doing in our common room?"

James glanced up from his phone. "Well, first of all, this isn't your common room either, Penelope," he said. "You live on a different floor."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Minor details."

"Second of all, I'm waiting for Hotch and Alex," he said. "They borrowed my car for the day."

Penelope's eyes gleamed behind her lavender glasses. "Ooh! What are they doing?" she asked. She plunked down on the common room couch beside him in a flurry of clinking plastic bracelets. "Are they going on a date?"

"No!" James said, a little too quickly. "No, no, no, they're not going on a date."

"I heard they were dating," Penelope said. She paused. "But I also heard that they're actually twins. So I _really_ hope that both of those rumors aren't true."

"Well, they're not dating, and they're not twins," James said firmly. Penelope frowned, and then after a moment scooted a little closer to him. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"I just realized we haven't had much one on one bonding time," she said. "Where were you born? What are your hopes and dreams? Why didn't you tell us your family owned literally the cutest, most Instagram-worthy bakery in the world?"

James laughed. "I was born in Auden's Ridge, lived here all my life," he said. "Hopes and dreams...going to medical school and becoming an emergency room doctor. As for the bakery...I don't know, I guess to me it's just a part of my life and I don't think about it as anything special."

"All right, those are good answers," Penelope said. She tucked her feet underneath her and shifted her weight. "This whole Alex thing, though. You're going to ask her out at some point though, right? Some of us have a lot of money riding on this."

He sighed heavily. "I don't know, it's complicated, I guess," he said. "She-" He stopped. "Did you say money?"

"Don't worry about it. Keep going."

He eyed her carefully, but he sank back in the couch and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Alex has been my best friend since the first day of ninth grade," he said.

"I thought Dave was your best friend."

"Well, he is, but like...you know. It's different."

"Different because you have a crush on Alex and not on Dave?"

"All right, _yes,_ fine, I've had a crush on Alex since the first day of ninth grade," he said, sinking further down into the couch. "It just...it was never the right time, you know? She's always been so focused on school and her grades and getting into a good college. And honestly, I kind of did the same. Dave was the one who was always asking girls out, Alex and I have had scholarships to maintain."

"So...you never asked her to anything?" Penelope asked wistfully. "Not a coffee date at the Honeybean, a school dance?" Her eyes widened. "Not even _prom_?"

"No," he confessed. "I was going to ask her, but...Carolyn moved right before prom last year, and Dave was crushed, so the three of us went as a group so he would stop moping."

"Did you at least ask her to dance?" Penelope pressed.

"No," he said miserably. "She said she's not the dancing type. We spent most of the night seeing how much confetti we could stick down Dave's collar before he noticed."

Penelope regarded him solemnly for a moment, then smacked him lightly upside the head. "What was that for?" he complained.

"You sweet, adorable, absolute _dingbat_ ," she said. "You've had so many chances to at least tell her you like her!"

"I know! I know! People need to stop reminding me of this!" he said. "It's just...she doesn't do emotional stuff, you know? She's kind of...closed off when it comes to these kinds of things. Her family doesn't really do emotions."

"What do you mean?"

"She comes from a family of cops," James said. "Her dad's chief of police, her older brother Danny is in the police academy, her younger brother is already planning on being a cop too. They don't...they love her but they don't get her, you know what I mean? Her brothers are always screaming and shouting and roughhousing. They were always messing with her. They still don't get why she wanted to go away for school. Her mom does, which is good, but...they don't talk about their feelings in her house. Alex always deflects if you try to talk about emotional stuff that deals with her."

Penelope sighed. "Yikes," she said. "I never thought of any of that."

"I don't want to do anything that would push her away," he confessed. "Or ruin our friendship. I don't want to make her uncomfortable and end up losing one of my best friends."

"That is tough," Penelope agreed. She nudged James's shoulder lightly. "Well, don't stress. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be. And also, I'm extremely good at matchmaking."

He laughed. "I'll let you know if I'm in need of your services," he said.

Heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs and he sat up. "Are they back?" Penelope said, immediately distracted. "Where did they go? What were they doing?"

Hotch walked slowly into the common room, carrying a fast-asleep Spencer against his chest. "Jesus, why is he suddenly so heavy when he's sleeping?" he complained in a half-whisper.

"I could have carried him for part of the way, or we could have woken him up," Alex said, following close at his heels. She'd dressed down for the day in a soft knit dress and a tote bag was slung over her shoulder. "You had options."

"I wasn't about to wake him up," Hotch said.

"Well, give him to me now, I'll put him down for a nap," Alex said.

Hotch shifted him over to her carefully. "Don't wake him up," he warned.

"I won't, I won't," she said, pressing her hand lightly to the back of Spencer's head. "I'll be back."

She shifted Spencer on her hip and carried him down the hallway to his room. Hotch yawned heavily and plunked down on the couch at James's other side. "How'd it go?" James asked.

"Good," Hotch said. "Really good. He, uh...he made some friends, I think."

"Where did you guys go?" Penelope asked. "James just said you guys borrowed his car. I thought you might be on a-"

"They took Spencer to a playground," James said quickly. "There's a big indoor playground two towns over."

Penelope wrinkled her nose. "Really?" she said. "Spencer? He doesn't seem the type. It's noisy, it's full of germs, he'd have to run around, and there's children there."

"You know Spencer is a child, right?"

"That doesn't seem correct. He's a grown scientist in a very tiny body."

Hotch stretched out his long legs. "Well, he found a couple of other kids his own age, and I think he had a pretty good time," he said. "The mom of two of the kids invited him to get ice cream afterwards too. So he ran around for a couple of hours, ate a bunch of ice cream, and conked out in the car in five minutes. I call that a success."

Alex walked back into the common room. "Child is successfully asleep in his own bed," she said, kicking off her shoes.

"Thank god," Hotch sighed. "He hasn't been sleeping much at all lately."

"Well, we'll have to wake him up for dinner at some point, but we can let him nap as much as we can right now," Alex said as she settled into one of the armchairs. "I'm just so glad that went well. Your mom was right, James. Socialization was really good for him. We need to take him back."

"Good," he said. "You can borrow the car whenever you want."

Alex ran her fingers through her long hair. "I got Mrs. Clark's number too, in case there's another chance for the kids to play," she said. "Jesus. I have my first mom friend. I am seventeen years old, I don't have a child, and I have a mom friend." She paused. "She does think that Hotch and I are siblings and that Spencer is our little brother, so...that'll be interesting."

"I've heard that rumor too," Penelope said, nodding sagely.

"I just hope that doesn't bite us in the ass later," Hotch said. "Hopefully we can keep that up without anyone asking too many questions."

"Yeah, like asking to meet our parents," Alex said. She leaned back in her seat. "So where's everybody else?"

"Dave went home after he dropped me off," James said. "The sports kids are doing sports things. And Emily is…" He paused. "I'm not sure where Emily is, actually."

"Oh, she has a date today," Alex said. "Some guy she met at one of Dave's parties. Ian."

"Is he her boyfriend?" Penelope asked eagerly.

"I don't think they're official," Alex said. "I think it's their first date, actually."

Penelope clasped her hands, bracelets clanking. "Oh, I want to hear all about it when she gets back," she sighed. "I want to go on a date."

"You're thirteen, darling, you have plenty of time to go on dates."

"Yes, I know, but they look like so much fun," Penelope said. She looked slyly at James. "Don't you think so?"

He could feel his face suddenly heat up. "Hey, I think there's an Iron Chef marathon on the Food Network," he said a little too loudly, fumbling for the remote and switching on the TV. He sat back, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope. "Who else can't stand Bobby Flay?"

They were halfway through the second episode when Spencer shuffled into the room, his blanket trailing behind him and his hair sticking up in the back. "Hi, sleepyhead," Alex said. "Did you have a good nap?" He nodded and stretched out his arms to her; Alex lifted him onto her lap. His cheeks were flushed pink and his mouth was stained faintly blue.

"You still have ice cream on your face, kiddo," Hotch laughed.

"You picked Superman, huh?" James asked. Spencer nodded, cuddling close and tucking his head under her chin.

"We'll give you a little time to wake up, and then you can clean up and go to dinner," Alex said, kissing his cheek. "Did you have fun?"

"Uh-huh," Spencer said, biting back a yawn. "We played pirates."

"Yeah?" Hotch said. "It looked like you had fun."

Spencer rubbed his eyes. "Nell knows a lot about pirates, but I know more and she thought that was cool," he said. He sat up a little bit. "Did you know that some pirates used to do a kind of torture called woolding? They would tie a cord around a captive's eyes, and then put a stick in it, and then tighten the cord around the stick until the eyes popped out."

"Wow, that's...that's really gross," Penelope said.

Alex laughed as she tugged him closer. "Maybe don't pull those sorts of facts out on your new friends right away," she said.

"Oh, no, they thought it was cool," Spencer said.

James grinned. He hadn't seen Spencer that relaxed and happy in a while. And Alex seemed happy too, the tenseness around her eyes easing as she cuddled him on her lap.

 _Oh no,_ he thought. _Penelope's right. I need to ask her out before it's too late._

* * *

**monday**

JJ grabbed her books as soon as the bell rang. "I'll see you after soccer practice!" Penelope called.

"Yeah, I'll see you at dinner!" JJ called back. "Have fun at model UN!"

"Today is ultimate frisbee club, but thank you!"

JJ bit back a laugh. She could never keep Penelope's extracurriculars straight, even with her colorcoded calendar hanging by their door. Sometimes she wondered if Penelope was able to remember everything herself.

She ran back to her dorm and changed out of her uniform, tossing everything on her bed- she could clean it up later. It didn't take long to change into her practice clothes and sneakers, and she tied her hair up into a neat bun at the crown of her head, pinning into place with the ease of practice.

She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder, humming tunelessly to herself as she jogged down the stairs and out the door, but when she reached the sports complex she didn't head towards the soccer field. Instead she headed down the quiet hallways of the gym to the dance studio.

At this point she figured out the schedule. There was a hiphop club that met once a week (she was honestly shocked that Penelope hadn't signed up for that one), plus a couple of yoga and pilates classes. The musical theatre class used the space once a week, and the ballet classes were held three times. As it turned out, the best chance to find the studio empty was during soccer practice.

She dug her bluetooth speaker out of her bag and set up her phone to play a barre exercise video on Youtube before kicking off her shoes. Dancing barefoot or in socks was definitely not her favorite thing- and if she was being honest, probably not safe, either- but unless she could find a way to have her mom send her some of her ballet gear without asking too many questions, it would have to do.

Already she could tell a difference- her flexibility was starting to come back, and her stamina. Ballet needed different muscles, different skills. Her _releve_ still wasn't consistently as high as it should be, and her turns were a struggle, but she was getting there again.

She spent an hour and a half dancing- stretching, barre work, center work- and by the end of it she was red faced and sweating. There was a yoga class coming in by five, so she hurried to pack up her things and jam her sneakers back onto her feet, and she made sure to close the door as quietly as she could as she slipped out.

"Hey, Jayje!" Derek called from down the hall. She jumped. "Wait up!"

"You're out of practice early," she said, digging her fingers into the strap of her bag.

Derek beamed at her, his bright smile broader than she'd ever seen it. "Yeah, it's, uh...they've been doing some restructuring of the team with all...you know," he said. "The stuff that happened. They've been just having us do a lot of drills."

"Oh," she said. She needed to leave. She needed to get out of there before someone from the soccer team noticed her. "That's...that's cool."

"Guess what, though?" he said. "They bumped me up to quarterback."

Her jaw dropped. "Are you serious?" she said. "You're only a sophomore! They never give that to a sophomore!"

"You're telling me!" he said. "It's just a trial basis, and the other coaches aren't too sure about it, but Coach Buford really wanted me for it and talked them into it."

"Derek, that's amazing!" she said, throwing her arms around him in an impulsive hug. "Congratulations!"

He hugged her back. "I'm so excited," he said. "My mom's gonna see me playing quarterback on Friday night. The timing's perfect." He paused. "Oh, shit. I left my water bottle in the coach's office. I'll be right back, I gotta go grab it."

He darted back down the hall. JJ raised herself up on her toes. She was starving. Hopefully there would be something good in the dining hall for dinner- if the big kids tried to talk her into eating raw tomatoes again she would scream.

"Ah, Miss Jareau. So this is where you've been."

JJ sank back off her toes and turned around slowly. "Hi, Coach," she said in a small voice.

Her soccer coach tilted her head. "I've been wondering where you've been, Jennifer," she said. "You realize you've missed multiple practices."

Her blood ran cold. "I...I've been sick," she said.

"And you're here in the gym because…?"

She swallowed hard. "I, um…"

Derek jogged over to her. "Hey, I'm ready to go now," he said.

The coach paused. "Morgan, good to see you," she said. "Did you talk to Buford and the team today?"

He flashed his charming million dollar smile at her. "Yes, ma'am, just a minute ago," he said.

"Well, congratulations on making quarterback," she said. "You've got a promising future ahead of you." She turned back to JJ. "Just don't make these absences a habit, Miss Jareau. I'll see you at our next practice?"

She shrank back. "Yes, ma'am," she said.

The coach gave her a long look before nodding curtly and striding away. "What was all that about?" Derek asked.

"Nothing," she said. "Let's go find the others so you can tell them the good news."

* * *

**tuesday**

"Okay, you have _got_ to scoot over, I have absolutely no room."

"You have plenty of room! Stop complaining"

"I'm about to knock your coffee over with my elbow if you don't move it!"

"Guys, stop fighting. One of you move."

Dave glared at Alex from across the table, then slowly moved his pile of books to the edge of the table. She smiled angelically at him as she shifted into the empty space. "Thank you, David," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "You're welcome, Alexandra."

"Jesus, you guys need to _stop_ ," James said. "This is hard enough without y'all making it worse."

Dave sighed. "Sorry," he said.

The three of them had set up shop in the Honeybean, spreading out papers and books and glossy brochures as they worked on college applications, trying to beat the rapidly approaching deadlines. The stress was starting to get to them all- James's tie had long since been discarded, Alex had stuck at least three pens into her ponytail, and Dave was working on his second iced Americano.

He minimized the window for his application to NYU (his father's idea; his mother was still dead set on Yale) and opened the word processor. His latest story for Strauss's class was due by Thursday, and he didn't know what to write. So far he'd put together at least four different beginnings, but he never made it past a page before everything he'd written seemed stupid and silly and insignificant, and he deleted it.

"I should have done more extracurriculars," Alex said, pressing her fingertips to her temples as she stared in bleak frustration at her laptop screen. "God. I shouldn't have quit orchestra. I wasn't _that_ bad at cello."

"Mediocre at best," Dave said. She shot him a dirty look. "What? You didn't suck completely, it was a compliment. Kind of."

"You were good," James reassured her. He paused. "Well. Pretty good."

She sat back and groaned. "I could have done more," she said. "I can't go back and fix that now, though, can I?"

"Don't worry, Alex, you're going to get so many acceptance letters you won't know what to do with them," Dave said dismissively.

"Yes, but will those letters come along with full ride scholarships?" she asked, flipping through her notebook. "Because you know as well as I do that without a scholarship, I'll be living at home with my parents, going to community college in Kansas, babysitting my dad's coworker's kids and doing my brothers' laundry."

"Hey, hey, hey, slow down," James said. He reached over and squeezed her forearm lightly. "You're gonna be fine. Take a break, you're psyching yourself out."

Alex slunk further down in her seat. "I don't want to take a break, I want to get this done and submitted," she sulked. "I'm tired of stressing about getting this finished. I want to get it sent, so then I can stress about hearing an answer back."

Dave frowned at the empty document. "Can I ask you guys something?" he said before he could stop himself.

"Shoot," James said, tossing his pencil down on the table. "Please, give us a distraction."

"Are you guys really that worried about colleges?" he asked. "And scholarships?"

James and Alex looked at each other, and for a moment Dave felt uneasy, as if they were sharing a silent secret he wasn't privy to. "Well...yeah," James said. "How else are we supposed to afford a top school."

"Don't your parents have a college fund?" Dave asked.

"Yeah, but that only goes so far," James said. "Besides, sometimes the college fund has to get dipped into. Remember when it flooded real bad freshman year? My parents had to replace all the flooring in the bakery."

"My parents had to make three college funds," Alex pointed out. "And part of mine already went to going to school here. If I hadn't gotten a scholarship and the library job, I wouldn't be here, I'd still be stuck in Kansas, taking AP Spanish if I'm lucky enough that they're offering it this year."

"So what happens if you don't get scholarships?" Dave pressed. "You wouldn't really go to community college in Kansas, right? You could get loans or something."

Alex blinked. "Loans, yes," she said. "Loans so I can go to Berkeley like I've wanted since I was twelve? No way. I'll never get them paid off. My grandchildren will be paying off my student loans."

Dave stared at his Macbook screen. "I thought you guys were just being...you know, kind of dramatic about this whole thing," he said. "No offense."

James raised an eyebrow. "No offense, Dave, but you knew that even when we were in middle school I spent my summers working in my dad's bakery while you got to fly to Europe," he said. "I thought you'd figured it out by now."

Dave drummed his fingers frenetically against the edge of his Macbook. He didn't know how to respond. "Sorry," he said finally, but it didn't seem like the correct answer. "I- sorry."

James shrugged. "Don't be sorry," he said. "One day Alex is going to be a world-renowned linguistics expert, and I'll be in charge of an emergency room, and you'll have your name on a law firm. Alex and I just have to work a little bit harder to get there, that's all."

 _Or a novelist_ , Dave thought, but the blank document taunted him and he closed it out, pulling the NYU application back up. "Yeah, we will," he said, and he started typing.

* * *

**wednesday**

Haley pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the stage next to Harper. "Hey, captain," she grinned. "How's it going?"

Harper beamed. "Amazing," she said. "I mean...it sucks that Alexa got demoted, but like…" She leaned closer. "This is the best thing that could have happened to me. I thought there was no way I could make captain until Alexa graduated."

"She doesn't deserve to be captain, she's an awful person," Haley said. "Everybody who got kicked off the squad and the football team, too."

Harper pulled her long dark hair over her shoulder. "You know what this means though, right?" she said. "Now that I'm the new Alexa, you're the new Harper. You'll be in line to be captain your senior year, now that you're my second."

"Maybe," Haley said. She nudged Harper playfully. "Maybe I'll get voted in myself." She looked across the auditorium. "Miss T's coming in today, right?"

"Yeah, she's going to teach the dance combination for auditions today," Harper said, flipping her hair back. "Oh, Jesus. Look at Grace. Is she wearing LaDucas?"

"Yep," Haley said grimly. "If she tells me one more time about how her parents took her to New York to buy those fucking shoes I'm going to throw up on them."

Harper laughed. "Oh my god, Hay, you're vicious," she said.

Haley sort of smiled. She didn't want to be vicious. She wasn't even sure why she said that in the first place. Was it annoying that Grace had been in vocal training since the first grade and always got the leads in the school musicals? Sure. Did she need to be mean about it, just to keep up with Harper?

Probably not. But she didn't want to think too much into that.

Harper elbowed her in the ribs. "Oh, look, it's your boyfriend," she teased.

Haley's heart skipped a beat. "He's not my boyfriend," she said.

"I can't believe you actually have a crush on Hotchner," Harper said, rolling her eyes. "Do you know how wide open your options are now that you're my second on the cheer squad?"

"Mm-hm," Haley said absently.

"And yet you're still crushing on the gangly guy from Lincoln House," Harper said. "You disappoint me, Brooks. Look at him. He's literally a scarecrow."

Haley jumped down from the edge of the stage, the heels of her Capezio character shoes striking the floor with sharp twin clicks. "I don't remember asking for your opinion," she called.

She sidestepped the crowd (and Grace tapping in her LaDucas) and caught up to Aaron, who was being forcibly dragged by Penelope pulling on his wrist. "Penny, please, let go, I don't think this is a good idea," he was pleading.

"It will be _fun_ and you will _like_ it and you need to _stop complaining_ ," Penelope said. She was dressed for a dance class in a tank top and hot pink shorts, a pair of jazz shoes dangling from her other hand, but Aaron was wearing his favorite hoodie and worn-out converses. His one concession had been swapping his jeans for black joggers. "And besides, you might get to talk to- ahhhh, hi, Haley."

"Hey, guys," she said, wiggling her fingers in a little wave.

Aaron immediately straightened up and struggled to pull his sleeve free from Penelope's grip. "Hi, Haley, sorry, I was...I was just leaving…" he said, an embarrassed blush rising on his cheekbones.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she said, linking her arm through his and tugging him down towards the stage. "Penelope's right, it'll be fun."

"You'll have a good time!" Penelope chirped behind them.

Aaron dragged his heels. "I don't think this is a good idea, I should go…" he said.

A small woman in a St. Thaddeus theatre department shirt and her red hair tied in a high ponytail stepped to the edge of the stage and the students instantly began to quiet. "Hey, guys!" she called. "You ready to learn the dance combination for auditions?"

The auditorium echoed with excited shrieks. Aaron shrank back. "Stop that!" Penelope said, giving him a gentle push forward. "Listen to Miss T, she's not scary, she's so nice."

The theatre teacher waved her hands for them to settle down. "I'm going to teach two parts from the opening number, okay?" she said. "First part is going to be partner work, so find a partner and get up on the stage."

Penelope immediately zipped off in search of one of her theatre nerd friends, but Aaron looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. "Don't look like that," Haley said.

He glanced around helplessly. "I don't have a partner," he said.

She linked her fingers through his. "Yes, you do," she said. "Now come on."

"Haley, Haley, I can't dance," he hissed as she pulled him up the steps and tugged him to a spot towards the back of the stage. "This is a bad idea."

"No, it's not," she said. She gave his hand what she hoped was a reassuring little squeeze. "I'll help you, don't worry."

Miss T tightened her ponytail. "We're going to pick up at the top of the first chorus. Who here has listened to the cast recording?" Every hand shot up. "Oh. Wow. All right, so this is the first 'it's your wedding day.' You're going to face your partner, you're going step together, step twice to your right, and then that last step it's a jump and clap. Then repeat to the left. Super easy, right?"

"This is not easy," Aaron whispered. "What's happening?"

"Like this," Haley whispered back. "Just watch, she'll demonstrate. See? Not as hard as it looks." She paused and laughed. "No, no, babe, go to your right, not your left." He blushed red all the way to his ears, stumbling through the steps.

Miss T clapped her hands. "That's great, you guys!" she said. "Okay, so moving on. From here you're going to a chainé turn out to the right, take a beat, and then chainé turn back."

Grace's hand shot in the air. "Miss T, how would you like our arms on the chainé?" she said a little too loudly. Haley saw Harper roll her eyes from across the room.

"What am I supposed to be doing?" Aaron asked.

"It sounds fancy but it's just a three step turn," Haley said. "See? That's all it is."

He really wasn't doing that badly, all things considered. Clearly he was self conscious, keeping his eyes on the floor, and he stumbled here and there, but he had a good sense of rhythm and coordination. And he was so tall. Even with her heels on, she just barely reached his shoulder.

"Guys, this is looking so good," Miss T said. "Everybody take five, get some water. We'll pick up with the second part after that."

Aaron let out a loud, heavy sigh, but jumped as everyone chorused a bright "thank you, five." He looked at her in surprise. "You'll get used to that," she said, letting go of his hands. "You're doing really good."

"You don't have to pity me," he said. He unzipped his hoodie and tugged it off; the sleeves caught on the tee shirt he wore underneath and hiked it up for a second. He tugged the hem down swiftly. "Think I can sneak out the back without Penelope noticing me?"

"Nope," she said. "C'mere."

She pulled him across the stage to the theatre teacher. "Hi, Haley, it's good to see you out here," Miss T said. "I'm looking forward to seeing you at auditions. And who's this?"

"Aaron Hotchner, ma'am," he said.

She smiled and held out her hand. "Lucy Trevelyan, and now you know why the theatre kids all call me Miss T," she said. "Are you coming to auditions?"

"Sorry, I'm...I'm not much of a dancer," he said.

"No, no, you're doing fine," Miss T said. "Trust me, I've seen much worse. I did four years of show choir." She paused. "My fiance also did a couple years of show choir, and you can definitely dance better than he does. And besides, Miss Brooks here is one of the best dancers in the department. I'm sure you'll be in good shape in time for auditions."

"Miss T, can you please clarify the rockstep?" Grace called. "I wanted to make sure I'm doing it right."

Miss T smiled at them. "Go get some water before we start the next section, I'll talk to you two later," she said.

Aaron sighed. "I didn't know this is what I signed up for," he said.

"It's theatre club, singing and dancing is usually a part of it," Haley laughed. "You've got time, anyway, auditions aren't until family weekend is over." She ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the ends. "Do you have family coming in? My parents are bringing my sister, but Jessica's mad because she's missing a chorus concert."

Aaron hesitated. "I, um...I remember what you said about your dad," she said quickly. "Lung cancer, when you were thirteen. Right?"

She chose not to bring up his accidental remarks. They were burned into her memory- _It's not the first time somebody's smacked me around to make themselves feel better. He, uh...had a lot of issues. He kind of took them out on me-_ but she wasn't about to remind him of that.

He cleared his throat. "My aunt and uncle are coming," he said, a little stiffly.

"What about your mom, and your little brother?" she asked. "Are they coming?"

He cleared his throat. "My mom died in a car accident when I was ten," he said, keeping his eyes down. "It's just me and Sean now. Our aunt and uncle have custody of us, he lives in Virginia with them."

Her mouth went dry. "Aaron, I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

He raised and lowered one shoulder. "It's nothing you need to be sorry about," he said. "It's fine."

She looked up at him, unable to think of anything to say. The expression in his dark eyes was unreadable.

"All right, I hope you're ready for part two, everybody back onstage!"

Aaron pressed his mouth together in sort of a grim smile. "You ready?" he said.

She held out her hand. "Yeah, let's go."

She was almost afraid he wouldn't take her hand, but he did, and when she laced her fingers through his she was almost sure that he gave her hand a tiny squeeze.

* * *

**thursday**

Penelope sat down at the top of the old amphitheater, the concrete cool under her legs. "I'm almost done," she announced. "And then I can hand these out to everybody."

"Pen, I really don't think we need color coded schedules," JJ said as she sat down beside her and pulled a packet of Cheetos out of her backpack. "They emailed all of this stuff to our parents, we won't have to worry about it."

"I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly," she protested. "This is a big deal! I haven't seen my grandparents in so long!"

"It's been a month," Derek said dryly. "But everybody's coming to see the football game on Friday night, right? It's my first night as the official quarterback."

Emily tossed her tie and blazer on top of her backpack. "What's the big fuss about family weekend anyway?" she asked as she unbuttoned her shirt. "Do people realize that not everybody is pee-their-pants excited about the whole situation? What am I supposed to do?"

"There's plenty of stuff for you to do too," Derek said. "You're not the only person without family coming in. Hell, some people have family visiting and it's still rough for them." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the wrong ears weren't listening. "Last year Hotch turned into a completely different person. But I think things are just weird with his aunt and uncle."

Emily paused. "Wait, Hotchner's parents aren't coming?"

"His mom got killed in a car wreck when he was ten, and his dad had a heart attack three years later," Derek explained. He glanced back at Hotch, Alex, and Spencer who were walking through the gate at the top of the steps. "He, uh...he doesn't like to talk about it."

Emily let out an aggravated huff as she pulled off her tie. "I just don't see why everyone is losing their shit over it," she said. "It's just going to be a whole lot of chaos for three days, and everybody's going to go home in November anyway. Hell, Dave and James see their parents every day, it's nothing new for them."

"Some of us like spending time with our family," Derek teased, and Emily stripped down to the cropped tank she wore under her uniform and tossed her shirt in his face. "Jesus!"

"It doesn't matter to me one way or the other," Emily said. "I'm just going to be fucking bored while you guys are off having quality family time."

Spencer squinted up at her in the bright afternoon sunlight. "My family isn't coming either," he said. "I'll hang out with you."

Emily sighed and cupped his chin in her hand. "Just what I've always wanted, a babysitting gig," she said. She blew a raspberry on his cheek, making him shriek with laughter and try to escape.

"You're more than welcome to hang out with us," Alex said as Emily chased Spencer around the steps. "I'm sure no one will mind having an extra kid or two for the weekend."

Penelope leaned back as Spencer climbed over her, trying to get away from Emily who was now trying to tickle him. "You know, this probably isn't a very good idea," she said, hastily gathering up her markers before they could kick them down the steps. "He drank a _lot_ of chocolate milk at lunch."

Hotch picked Spencer up by the back of his shirt and lifted him out of harm's way. "That's a good point," he said. He set Spencer down next to Alex. "Here. Sit with Birdy."

Spencer frowned. "I want a nickname too," he announced.

"You have a nickname, _passerotto_ ," Emily said.

"A _matching_ nickname, that starts with a B," Spencer explained patiently. "I don't think it's fair that you two have nicknames and I don't have one. I've never had a nickname. My mom-" He stopped abruptly. Penelope held her breath. She'd never heard Spencer mention his parents before. "My mom called me Crash, and I don't like it. It's because I'm clumsy, but I can't help that. I'm probably just getting ready for a growth spurt."

"Maybe you'll eventually hit five feet tall," Derek said with a playful smirk. Spencer's lower lip dropped in a pout.

"I'm sure you'll be very tall when you grow up," Alex promised. "And we'll figure out a nickname for you too. Something you like." He beamed at her, pleased.

Penelope spread her markers back out again. "Okay, so when is everybody arriving?" she asked. "Everybody text me flight information."

Hotch sat down next to Alex and Spencer immediately clambered over her to get to him. "Sean will be getting here around ten," he said, hoisting Spencer onto his lap. "I think you two will get along, he's just a little bit younger than you."

"Great, another rugrat around here," Emily said. She dug around in her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a neon purple lighter. "I'll be right back."

"You know you can get suspended for that," Penelope said. Emily flipped her off playfully and jumped down the stairs two at a time.

She sighed heavily and went back to color coding her papers. The others could bicker and fuss if they wanted to. Her grandparents were going to be there in the morning, and there were all sorts of fun activities on the schedule, and it was going to be a great time. Everything would go smoothly.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no oh no oh no
> 
> If you'd like to see Spencer's playground adventures, check out SwallowsSong's oneshot Play Date! Brenna wrote it and it was so sweet and adorable I had to incorporate it into the main fic. I had to bend a few things to make it fit here, but I love the idea of Spencer getting to play.
> 
> If you read any of my Glee fics back in the day, you may recognize Miss T! Originally I was going to write Francey Anderson as the teacher, but a couple of people asked to see Lucy again and I was super happy to bring her back!


	22. better son/daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

_And sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on_  
 _And your friends they sing along and they love you._  
 _But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap  
_ _And it teases you for weeks in its absence._

_But you'll fight and you'll make it through_   
_You'll fake it if you have to and_   
_You'll show up for work with a smile._   
_You'll be better and you'll be smarter and more grown up_   
_And a better daughter or son and a real good friend,_   
_And you'll be awake,_   
_You'll be alert, you'll be positive though it hurts_

_And you'll laugh and embrace all your friends_   
_You'll be a real good listener, you'll be honest, you'll be brave_   
_You'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful._   
_You'll be happy._

-"A Better Son/Daughter" by Rilo Kiley

* * *

"You guys really didn't have to come for breakfast," James said. "It's so early."

"Oh, yes, we did," Charlie said, squeezing his arm lightly as Ned locked the car and dropped the keys in his pocket. "I took a day off for this. I did sub plans. And you know that I would rather teach my kindergarteners while puking than write sub plans, so we are going to make the most of it."

James bit back a sigh as they started the walk across the parking lot. "I live at home, Mom," he said. "You see me literally every day. You don't have to come to family weekend."

"It's your senior year," Ned said. "Let your mother have this."

"You're my only child! You're going to graduate and leave the nest!" Charlie said. "I can't believe you're already a senior. Ned, are we old enough to have a senior in high school?"

"I sure hope so," Ned said dryly.

Charlie reached for James's hand and squeezed it. "We should have had more babies," she said. "How did you end up an only child? What am I going to do without when you go off to college?"

"Mom, it's barely the end of September, you've got almost a year before I go to college," he said. "And you know I'll be home for every holiday."

"I know, but it doesn't really soften the blow," Charlie said. "It seems like only yesterday that you were crying because you had to go to the other kindergarten class instead of mine."

"You're going to tell my friends that story, aren't you?"

"Probably. I have the pictures too."

" _Mom_."

But he laughed as he said it. They'd always been a close knit family, just the three of them and the bakery and the little house he'd lived in his whole life. And truth be told he would probably be just as sad to leave them as they would be to see him go off to school.

It was still early in the morning, early enough that the skies still held a hint of deep blue at the edges, but the dining hall doors were propped open and festooned with a welcome banner. "Do you think the rest of your friends will be here soon?" Ned asked.

"Oh, they're already here," James said. "Hopefully they saved enough seats."

The hall was half filled with students in their uniforms and their out-of-place parents. He could spot Alex's red hair from a mile away at their usual table; she'd curled it and tied the sides back with a wide blue velvet ribbon. She only curled her hair on special occasions or when she was worried and felt like she needed to look more grown up. He had a feeling it was a little of both.

"We are already off the itinerary! We're running so behind!"

"Penelope, I hate to break it to you, but nobody read it."

"I worked so hard on them!"

James sidled up between Derek and Penelope, cutting off their squabbling. "Hey, guys," he said. "Guess who followed me in?"

Penelope whipped around, nearly tipping her chair over. "The Blakes!" she said. "This wasn't on the itinerary!"

"Pen, I think you need to give up," JJ said, patting her on the shoulder. Penelope sighed heavily.

Emily leaned on her elbows. "Did you guys bring us any baked goods?" she asked.

"Not today, I'm afraid, but I can send James with some cookies next week," Ned said. "Oh, or maybe cupcakes. How do you guys feel about cupcakes?"

Spencer looked up from his book. "I like cupcakes," he said hopefully.

"Put your book down for just a little bit and eat something," Alex said, holding out his fork. He sighed heavily and set the book down beside his plate.

"Make the chocolate chip cookie dough cupcakes and split the difference," Charlie suggested.

"That's a thing?" Emily said. "Yes, please, make those."

James tugged at his tie as he sat down between Alex and his dad. He hadn't been stressed about family weekend before, but now the nervousness radiating around their group was leeching into him. The younger kids were bouncing around and talking over each other, Alex and Hotch were both impeccably dressed but completely silent, and Emily's eyeliner could only be described as aggressive.

"Where's Dave?" he asked.

Penelope looked at the pink schedule in her hands. "According to this, he'll be arriving within the next ten minutes with his parents," she said.

"Oh, there he is," Alex said, tucking an imaginary loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't see his parents though."

Penelope wadded up the pink paper and threw it towards the nearest trash can, missing it completely. "Yeah, this thing is useless," she sighed.

"David looks angry," Charlie commented. "David, darling, why are you angry?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "You've met my parents," he said. "I told them it'd be more sensible to take the same car."

"Yeah, that's what we did," Ned said.

"Well, the rest of the Rossis decided to drive themselves, so who knows when they're going to show up," Dave said. He jammed his hands in his pockets. "My mom probably made my dad stop at Starbucks, it'll be a while."

Alex drummed her fingertips on the table, staring off into space. "You okay?" James asked softly.

She froze. "Oh, shit," she said.

"Oh, shit, what?" he said. "Are you okay?"

"They're here already," she said, half rising from the table. "Oh god. Okay." She ran her hands down her red plaid skirt. "They weren't supposed to be here until later."

Spencer squinted up at her. "Why are you nervous?" he asked.

"I'm not nervous."

"She's not nervous until she starts mumbling songs under her breath," James said.

"I don't do that," Alex said as she adjusted the ribbon in her hair. "Okay, they saw me. Oh, god. Okay."

"You look like you're bracing yourself for a tornado," Emily said.

"That's kind of what's about to happen," Dave said.

Suddenly two tall dark-haired boys ran across the dining hall and tackled Alex; the tallest of the two swept her up off the floor. "Jesus, Daniel, put me down!" she shrieked.

"You haven't seen me in months and that's the first thing you say to me?" he said. "I bet you didn't even think I was coming!"

"I didn't!" she said, gripping the shoulders of his shirt. "I'm glad you're here, just please _put me down_!"

"Alex, are you being kidnapped?" Penelope asked.

"No, no, I know them," Alex said, still struggling to escape. "These are my brothers, Danny and Scott."

Danny dropped her down to the ground. "Hey, y'all," he said.

"Did you actually make more friends, Lexy?" Scott asked. Emily snickered loudly and Alex shot her a dirty look. "Wow, it only took you three years of boarding school."

Alex tugged down the hem of her blazer, her face turning as red as her hair. "I've always had friends, Scott," she snapped.

"Yeah, but like...now you've got more than just Blake and Rossi," Danny said. He ruffled her hair, messing up the ribbon. "Good for you."

"Stop teasing your sister!"

James leaned his arms on the table as Alex's parents caught up to them. She really was a carbon copy of her mother- the same sharply delicate features and brown eyes- but her brothers were an even balance between both parents, although Scott was taller than Alex by a few inches despite being four years younger, and Danny towered over her completely.

"Sorry, Mom, we can't help it," Scott grinned.

Catherine shook her head. "Go get some waffles or something, stop annoying her," she said, and both boys took off for the breakfast line.

"There's my little girl!" Damon Miller said, his voice carrying a little too far across the dining hall.

Alex tried to smooth her hair back; she was fighting a losing battle. "Hi, Dad," she said, clearly trying to keep some semblance of composure.

Damon pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her on the cheek. "Missed you, princess," he said.

She hugged him back, but the embarrassed flush didn't leave her face. "Missed you too," she said. "I thought you guys were coming later."

"That was your dad's idea, they had an earlier flight available and he thought we should surprise you," Catherine said. She took her turn to hug her daughter. "I told him we should have warned you."

"Yeah, a little warning would have been appreciated," Alex sighed.

Catherine took a step back, squeezing her arms lightly and smiling at her. "Well, it's good to see you," she said. "Now, which one is Emily?"

Emily raised her hand. "Present," she said.

"Well, it's nice to meet our girl's roommate," Damon said, shaking her hand. Emily glanced over at Alex, clearly off guard. "This isn't the same one with the Hello Kitty backpack, is it?"

"No, Dad, that was Elle, we were roommates freshman year," Alex reminded him.

"Are your parents here, honey?" Catherine asked.

"Uh...no," Emily said. "My mom lives overseas, she can't make it."

Catherine frowned. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said. "Well, you're Alex's roommate, so you're practically family. You can stick with us for the weekend."

Damon had already gone over to say hello to Ned; Catherine patted Emily's shoulder and went over to talk to Charlie. Alex sank back down in her seat with a heavy sigh. "So...Lexy, is it?" Derek said with a grin.

"Do _not_ call me Lexy," she said, yanking the ribbon out of her hair.

"Your brothers are so cute," Penelope said. "How old are they?"

" _No_."

"Your family is so nice," JJ said.

"They're very nice, they're just...a lot," Alex sighed.

Dave rolled his eyes. "I think being a lot is a requirement for parents around here," he said. "Speaking of which...Mom! Dad! Stop wandering around! I'm over here!"

"Yell a little louder, Dave, I don't think they heard you," Hotch said.

"Oh, you say that, Hotchner, they definitely didn't hear me," Dave said. "You see them wandering around over there?" He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Mother! Father!" He sat back. "Jesus." He stood up. "Isabella! Isabella Rossi!"

"Now she hears you," James said.

Dave pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lord, give me strength to get me through this weekend," he mumbled.

* * *

Emily trailed along behind the group as they walked across campus to chapel. The only saving grace to this stupid weekend was that it was a short day, in order to do all the stupid family shit. She didn't have to go to first period or homeroom, and afternoon classes were canceled so parents would attend house meetings. And since she didn't have a parent to observe her classes or go to the Roosevelt meeting, maybe she just wouldn't go to classes at all.

"Emily, Spencer, come on, we're leaving you behind," Penelope called.

Emily shrugged. She didn't care much, but Spencer was definitely dragging, his head down and his book hugged to his chest. She caught up to him and pinched his shoulder lightly. "Are you okay, _passerotto_?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

He didn't seem fine. If she had to hazard a guess, he was probably just as done with this whole situation as she was.

Hotch stopped on the path and waited for them, letting the rest of the group go on ahead. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just held out his hand to Spencer. Spencer immediately grabbed it. "We'll do something fun later," he said. "Maybe Sunday night, when everybody's gone home and things are back to normal."

"Sure," Emily said. "Fine. Sounds great."

Hotch frowned at her. She stared back at him coolly. Their silent argument was interrupted by Spencer tugging on Hotch's hand. "Could you carry me, please?" he asked quietly.

"Are you feeling okay?" Hotch asked as he picked him up. "You didn't eat much at breakfast. Are you sick?" Spencer didn't say anything, but he leaned his head on Hotch's shoulder, still holding onto his book.

Emily walked behind them towards the chapel, catching up to the rest of the group. "Oh, whose parents are those?" she said.

"Well, since they're hugging JJ...I'm guessing JJ," he said. Emily raked her hair back from her face and rolled her eyes at him; he didn't seem to notice. She hadn't thought about how this weekend would have to be a steady stream of introducing herself to strange adults and being on her best behavior.

Alex's younger brother popped up at her elbow and she jumped in surprise. "So you're really from Italy?" he said. She stared at him blankly. What was his name? Sam? Something like that. "What's the McDonald's like over there? Do you have a McDonald's?"

Emily laughed. "I mean, yeah," she said.

"Do they just have, like, spaghetti and stuff? Or normal things?" Scott asked. (His name was Scott, she remembered that now.)

"We eat more than just pasta in Italy," she said. "But yeah, some of it's different. McDonald's in Ukraine had shrimp, though, that was pretty cool."

Scott's eyes went wide. "No shit?" he said. He glanced quickly over at his mother, still chatting with Charlie. "I mean...no kidding."

"Yeah, no shit," Emily grinned.

"That's so cool," Scott said. "Lexy knows like eight million languages, but she's never gone anywhere like you have. Do you want to come sit with us?"

"Yeah, sure," she said. Scott grinned at her and jogged towards the chapel.

"Look at you, making friends," Hotch teased.

"Oh, shut up," Emily said. "Miller's brothers aren't so bad, I don't know what she's complaining about."

Students and their families were beginning to file into the chapel; most of their group had already disappeared inside. Hotch hesitated at the bottom of the steps. "What's with you?" Emily asked him. He didn't answer. "Hello? Earth to Hotchner."

He blinked. "Sorry, I didn't hear you," he said.

"Alex and James are waiting," she said, nodding towards the open doors. "What are you looking for?"

"I was hoping…" he started to say, but his voice trailed off. He set Spencer down on the ground. "Go with Alex and Emily, okay?"

"Can't I stay with you?" Spencer asked.

"I'll see you in a little bit, I just want to wait out here for a second," he said. "It's okay, don't worry."

"Who're you waiting for?" Emily asked.

Suddenly Hotch straightened up. "Sean!" he called. "Hey, Sean!"

A blond boy ran down the walkway towards them and threw himself at Hotch. "Aaron!" he shrieked. Hotch caught up to him and scooped him up in a tight hug.

Emily leaned towards Spencer. "Who the hell is that?" she whispered.

"His real brother," Spencer whispered back.

Emily tilted her head, frowning thoughtfully. Hotch was hugging his little brother as close as he could, but Sean was beginning to squirm in his grip. "Aaron, that's too tight, put me down," he whined.

"Sorry, sorry," Hotch said, setting him down and kneeling on the walkway to be at his eye level. He was smiling more brightly than Emily had ever seen before. "I've missed you, Seanie. How's school? How's baseball going?"

Sean shrugged. "I quit, I'm doing soccer now," he said. "And I got drums for my birthday!"

She probably shouldn't eavesdrop, but she couldn't help it. Alex and James walked down the steps towards them. "Wow, his brother looks nothing like him," James commented, keeping his voice low.

"Siblings don't have to look completely alike, you know," Alex said. Spencer leaned against her hip and she absently ran her fingers through his short hair. "Genetics can be funny like that. Right, Spencer?" He didn't answer, and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

"Sean, baby, please don't run ahead like that, I don't want you to fall."

Hotch stood up quickly and squared his shoulders. His face fell back into grim lines as if every bit of his sudden excitement had been suctioned out of him. Sean, however, seemed unbothered and ran back towards a couple walking up the path. "Sorry," he said cheerfully, grabbing the woman's hand.

"Just be careful, buddy, okay?" the man said, ruffling his hair.

Hotch's back had gone ramrod straight, as if just seeing the couple made him uncomfortable. Emily couldn't blame him. They seemed a little too polished, a little too perfect. The man's button up shirt looked like it had just been ironed even though they'd just gotten off a flight, and the woman was dressed in a floral Lily Pulitzer dress and heels, her blonde hair perfectly highlighted and curled.

Hotch cleared his throat as they approached him, Sean still swinging the woman's hand. "Hi," he said. "How was your flight?"

"Oh, it was fine," the woman said. She looked Hotch up and down. "My, you do look more and more like your father every time I see you."

Hotch flushed red, but didn't say anything in response. The man cleared his throat. "Aaron, are you going to introduce us to your friends?" he asked.

Hotch took a step back. "Uh...yes," he said stiffly. "This is Emily, Alex, James, and Spencer." He shifted his weight. "This is my Uncle Andrew and my Aunt Victoria, and my younger brother Sean."

Emily looked at the others out of the corner of her eyes. Alex smiled her sweetest, most grown up smile. "It's nice to meet you, Victoria," she said, keeping her arm around Spencer's shoulders as he half-hid himself behind her.

Victoria smiled at them, her teeth white and even against her pink lipstick. "Nice to meet you too, honey," she said, her southern accent syrup-sweet. "You can just call me Mrs. Eubanks." She beckoned to Sean. "Sean, honey, let's go inside."

"Can I have my iPad, Mom?" he asked.

Hotch visibly flinched.

"You can once we're sitting down, buddy," Andrew said.

Emily took a step back as Hotch's family walked past them into the chapel, leaving him behind. "Hotch, are you sitting with us?" James asked.

"No, I...I'm going to sit with them," Hotch said. Some of the color had drained from his face. "I'll see you guys later."

Emily watched them go. There was a strange dullness in the pit of her stomach, like she was bracing herself at the top of a roller coaster, and she wasn't sure why.

* * *

Alex already knew there were a few things she would miss about high school once she graduated. But she knew she would definitely not miss parent class observations. She'd lucked out in previous years- her parents had observed her in English literature and algebra and French, which was all reasonable, even though her father liked to argue that she could have learned those sorts of things back home in Kansas City. But now they were watching her Russian language class, and she was dreading what he was going to say about it.

 _You love this class_ , she told herself sternly. _You do really well in this class. This is fine._

She tried not to look towards the back of the room at the line of parents sitting in metal folding chairs. The teacher was having them give oral presentations, and she needed to stay focused. She inhaled slowly, measuring her breathing.

It really was one of her favorite classes. The classroom was in an older part of the building, all dark wood and parquet floors and dim warm lighting, and it somehow made it seem more special, more important. It brought back memories of reading Anna Karenina for the first time when she was in middle school, sitting in the fluorescent lights of her seventh grade homeroom and picturing herself in snowy nineteenth century Moscow. If she could have told eleven year old Lexy Miller that someday she'd be speaking Russian in a room like this at a private boarding school, she'd never believe it.

The teacher made a note as the last student to speak took their seat. "Alexandra," she called.

Alex stood up quickly, smoothing her skirt down and tugging the hem of her blazer in place before picking up her notecards. The heels of her ankle boots clicked briskly on the floor, and for a moment she felt like her usual self. And then she saw her parents in the back of the room- her mother smiling, her dad frowning in concerned confusion- and she was six years old again, arguing that she didn't want to go outside and play in the backyard with her brothers, she wanted to stay inside and read.

"Alexandra, _preuspevat_ ," the teacher said.

She nearly dropped her note cards, but she quickly clasped her hands behind her back and started her presentation, keeping her eyes trained on the clock on the back wall so she wouldn't accidentally make eye contact with her parents. Russian was one of the hardest languages she'd worked on so far, and one of the hardest classes she'd taken so far at St. Thaddeus, but she loved it. She loved challenging languages, learning new grammar and new rules and new sounds, how some languages connected and shared and some clashed completely.

Her grammar still wasn't completely perfect and her vocabulary still needed some expanding, but all things considered her presentation went well, and it wasn't until she was back in her seat that she realized she'd forgotten to look at her notes. She set them down at the corner of her desk and clasped her hands tightly.

Since classes were shortened for the sake of observations, the bell didn't ring at the end of the period; instead the teacher addressed the parents briefly before dismissing everyone. Alex dropped her belongings back into her satchel and closed it up, sighing heavily.

Catherine patted her arm. "You did so well, honey," she said.

"You sure did," Damon said, clearing his throat. "I couldn't understand a lick of what was happening, but you sounded real confident up there."

Alex slid her bag's strap over her shoulder. "I did okay, I think," she said.

"I don't know how you manage all these languages," Damon said. "It sounded like you were talking backwards."

"It's pretty tough," Alex admitted as they walked out into the hallway. "But Emily speaks a little Russian. And Spencer's been having me teach him too. And ASL, so I have plenty of opportunities to practice. Emily speaks a couple of languages, actually."

"She seems like a nice girl," Catherine said.

"Here's what I don't understand, Lexy," Damon began. "When are you ever going to use Russian? Couldn't you have taken something a little more useful? Spanish, maybe?"

"I tested out of Spanish," Alex said. "And I took honors French my freshman year, they don't offer any more difficult classes for those two."

"But what are you going to do with all these languages?" Damon persisted. "Once you get out in the real world, you're not going to use them."

"Yes, I am," she said.

"But back home-"

"Damon," Catherine warned. "You promised you weren't going to start with this today."

He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not starting anything!" he said. "I just know that now that she's looking at colleges, she's got to start thinking more practically-"

"I am being practical," Alex interrupted. "Just because I don't want to move home and-"

"All right, all right, enough," Catherine said. "Both of you. We're just going to enjoy this weekend, okay? No arguing about schools." She sighed heavily. "Where did the boys go?"

"I don't know, Emily took them somewhere," Alex said. "I'll be back. I need to go pick up Spencer from his class. I'll meet you at the dining hall in a little bit."

She walked a little too fast down the hall, gritting her teeth. Her dad meant well, she knew he did. But her dad still saw her as a little kid, his only daughter, something delicate and fragile that he needed to protect. But she wasn't delicate, she was thin invisible steel, and she didn't know how to make her father understand that she was her own person.

She made her way to Spencer's classroom and found him waiting anxiously for her in the hall. "Sorry that took me so long," she said. "How was class?"

"Frustrating," he said. "We've been talking about Galvani in biology class, but I don't understand why we're focusing so much on him. His contemporary Alessandro Volta disproved a lot of his theories about animal electricity."

"Galvani and his wife are credited with discovering bioelectricity," Alex pointed out as she took his hand.

"Yes, but we don't need to spend the whole first quarter talking about him when most of his hypotheses were known to be incorrect before the end of the eighteenth century," Spencer said. He squinted up at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "What makes you say that?"

"You look stressed," he said. "And you're walking really fast."

"Sorry, darling," she said, slowing down so he could keep up. "I might be a little stressed. But it's fine." She paused. "Do you know what you want to study in college?"

Most fourth graders wouldn't have an answer to that, but Spencer wasn't a fourth grader. "I want my PhD in either chemistry or mathematics," he said immediately. "Maybe both. But I'll get my undergrad in something fun. Maybe psychology."

Alex laughed. "I like the way you think," she said.

"I might change my mind," he said. "I'll be thirteen when I graduate from high school, so I might decide on something else by the time I get to college."

She squeezed his hand. "Well, whatever you decide, I support you, okay?" she said. "You go learn all the things you want to learn." He smiled up at her, the corners of his eyes scrunching up, and she smiled back at him.

* * *

"...and that's when he got moved up to quarterback," Penelope said. She stopped to take a breath. "I try to go to his games as much as I can. Do you want to see the pictures? Or the videos? I take tons every time I go to a game."

"You really don't have to do that, baby girl," Derek said hastily.

Sarah laughed. At sixteen she and Derek were just about the same height, but most likely he'd end up taller than her, if their father's height was any indication; their younger sister Sarah was as tall as Penelope even though she was a year younger than her. "We'll see him play tonight for sure," she said. "But I'd never guess he'd end up quarterback. Maybe tight end at best."

"Aw, you don't know what you're talking about," Derek said.

"Have you told Penelope about the time you tried to play football with the big kids and you ran into a tree and knocked yourself out?" Sarah suggested helpfully.

"Sarah, no, don't tell her that!" Derek said, clapping a hand over her mouth. She licked his palm and he let go with a yelp of disgust. "Ugh, you weirdo."

"Aw, you've missed me," Sarah teased.

Desiree glanced at her phone. "Are we just waiting for Mom to stop talking or what?" she asked.

Derek looked over at Fran, deep in conversation with Penelope's grandparents. "No, I think we're waiting for more of the group to show up," he said.

"I never thought I'd say this, but you have too many friends," Desiree said. "We have to wait for all of them."

"At least for Spencer, you need to meet him," Derek said.

"I'm just glad you're not rooming with that grumpy kid anymore like last year," Sarah said.

"Oh, no, Hotch is my RA now," Derek said. "Still grumpy, though, that hasn't changed."

"He's always grumpy," Penelope supplied helpfully. "But there's Spencer, Alex has him."

Desiree frowned. "Derek, that is a child," she said. "Whose child is that?"

"My roommate," he explained. "Although Hotch and Alex have kind of adopted him? But also I've been hearing rumors that they're twins and Spencer is their little brother, but I don't know where the hell that started."

"That is a _child_ ," Desiree said blankly. "Is he like a Benjamin Button or something?"

"No, he's ten and really smart," Derek said. "Did...did I forget to tell you that he was ten?"

"Yeah, you did," Desiree said. "We would have remembered if you told us you were rooming with a kindergartener."

"He's not a kindergartener, he's just kindergartener-sized," Penelope said helpfully.

Derek waved them over. "Hey, pretty boy, come meet my family!" he called. "These are my sisters, Sarah and Desiree. This is Spencer. And that's Alex."

"She's our mom friend," Penelope explained.

"I'm not the mom friend," Alex said as she straightened Spencer's crooked shirt collar.

"Oh, you're so cute!" Sarah cooed. "Hi, honey! You're adorable, oh my god. You're so tiny."

Spencer half hid behind Alex, holding onto her skirt. "Hi," he said warily.

"Sarah, dude, stop scaring him," Derek said. "C'mere, come meet my mom." He grabbed Spencer's hand and dragged him over to his mother, interrupting her conversation. "Mom! This is my roommate Spencer."

Fran blinked in surprise. "Hi," she said. "It's nice to meet you, sweetheart." Derek could tell that she was a bit confused, but too polite to ask questions right out of the gate. "Is...are your parents here? I'd love to meet them."

"No," Spencer said. "They...can't come. It's okay, though." He scratched the back of his right leg with the top of his left shoe. "Derek, can we go to lunch now?"

"Yeah, we can go, I was waiting for you to get here," Derek said. Spencer zipped back over to Alex, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders.

Fran raised an eyebrow. "When you told me about your roommate, was there anything you forgot to tell me?" she said.

Derek shifted his weight. "Uh...yes, ma'am," he said sheepishly. "He's, uh. Ten."

"Mm-hm," Fran said. "Where's his mama?"

"He doesn't really talk about his parents," Derek said. "They live out in Nevada, I think, he's from Las Vegas."

Fran clicked her tongue sympathetically. "Poor little thing, so far away from home and his parents don't even visit," she said. "You'd better be keeping an eye on him, Derek Jonathan."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "He-" He stopped. "We all try to keep an eye on him."

He'd tell her at some point about the goalpost. Now just wasn't the time.

* * *

Spencer leaned against Alex, making himself small in the crowd. All of the energy had drained out of him. The school was extra busy and extra loud with all the extra people, and he was tired of being introduced to so many strange grownups.

"You're awfully quiet today," Alex commented, smoothing his hair.

He drooped against her. "Where's Hotch?" he asked. "I haven't seen him since chapel."

"He's probably with his own family," Alex said. "Don't worry. I'm sure he's fine. Do you want to get in line for lunch?"

"No, I want to wait for Hotch," he said.

"We'll give him a few more minutes, but if he wants to spend time with his family, he can," she said. "You can stay with me and my family."

He didn't want to stay with Alex's family. Her mother was nice, but her father and brothers were so loud and so rowdy, and he could tell they were stressing her out. Especially since apparently Emily had skipped class to take Scott and Danny down to the creek, and it made her upset. He hated seeing Alex upset, especially when he didn't know how to fix it.

"What are you guys waiting for?" James asked, walking over to them with his hands in his pockets. "The line's pretty long, you should jump in while you can."

"I don't suppose you've seen Hotch anywhere, have you?" Alex said.

James shook his head. "Not in a while," he said.

Alex squeezed Spencer's shoulder. "How about you go with James and get lunch?" she said. "I need to go talk to Emily for a second. I'll be right back, I promise."

He didn't want to go with James. "Yeah, that's okay," he said aloud.

"It'll just take a second," she said, and she hurried away with a last little squeeze of his shoulder. James nudged him gently towards the line, and he didn't put up a fight, trailing alongside him. It was a much longer line than usual with all the moms and dads and siblings visiting, and he was relieved that James didn't try to make him hold a conversation.

James picked up a plastic tray and set it on the rail once they reached the front. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I'm not hungry," Spencer said, scratching at the skin around his thumbnail. He twisted around, leaning back against the rail and scanning the dining hall.

"Let's find something you like," James said. "I think there's-"

Spencer pushed himself up and tripped over his own shoes. "Hotch!" he called. He looked up at James. "Can I-"

"Yeah, yeah, go see Hotch," James said. "I'll pick out some things you might like."

Spencer ran off, dodging the crowds until he caught up. "Hotch!" he said, latching hold of his arm. "I didn't know where you were!"

"I was in class, kiddo," Hotch said. "Hey, I have somebody I want you to meet."

He didn't want to meet any more people, but Hotch pulled him over to the side of the room anyway. "Spencer, this is my little brother Sean. You two are just about the same age, Sean's in third grade right now."

They might've been close in age, but Sean was taller than he was, more filled out. He was the polar opposite of his older brother, blond and blue eyed and cherub-cheeked. His clothes looked brand new, and he had an iPad in a neon green silicone case tucked under his arm. Sean laughed. "Do you really go to school here?" he asked. "I thought it was just big kids."

"I'm in the ninth grade," Spencer said. "I skipped a couple of grades."

"That's weird," Sean said. He looked Spencer up and down, wrinkling his nose. "Why do you call my brother Hotch? Everybody calls him Aaron."

"We call him Hotch," Spencer said stiffly.

If Hotch noticed the tension, he didn't let on. "Maybe you guys can go play later or something," he said.

Spencer tilted his head up to look at Hotch. "I can't play, I have geometry homework," he said. "Are you coming to sit with us for lunch? I'll save you a seat."

"No, I'm going to sit back here with Sean," Hotch said.

"What about dinner?" he pressed.

Hotch glanced back over his shoulder at the table where his aunt and uncle were sitting. "No, I'm going out to dinner in town," he said. "I'll be back really late. One of the other RAs will do room checks for me."

Panic spiked in his chest. "What if-" he started to say, but he couldn't force the words out. _What if I have a bad dream? What if I can't sleep? What if I-_

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Hotch said. "I just want to spend time with my brother now while I still can. You understand, right?"

"I understand," he whispered.

"I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow if I don't see you before tonight," Hotch said. "Okay?"

Spencer nodded, and when Hotch tried to hug him he sidestepped away and ran back to their usual table. He climbed into his usual chair, his heart thudding against his ribcage. There were too many strange adults at the table, and irrational frustrated anger surged in his chest. He didn't want this. He wanted things to go back to normal, with just the nine of them, no grownups, no weird schedule changes, no upset Alex, no distracted Hotch, and definitely no Sean Hotchner.

Alex dropped into the chair between him and Charlie Blake. "I am going to _kill_ Emily," she mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, no," Charlie said. "Everything okay?"

"She skipped classes, and she dragged Danny and Scotty along," she said. "They could have gotten in so much trouble, which would have gotten me in trouble."

Spencer's vision blurred as Alex kept venting. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to will the threat of tears away with sheer stubbornness.

"Hey, what's going on, bug?" Charlie asked, and he jerked his head up as he realized she was talking to him. "You look like a little stormcloud."

"Nothing," he said, but a tear managed to escape and roll down his cheek. He scrubbed at it a little too harshly.

"That doesn't look like nothing," Charlie said gently.

He opened his mouth to argue with her. "Hotch isn't coming back tonight, he's going out with his family," he blurted out instead. He didn't know why that was what came out of his mouth, but it was better than the other things he was thinking.

"Don't worry about that," Alex reassured him, and when she reached for him he allowed her to pull him onto her lap. "I'll come check on you. And if you need anything at all you can text me in in the middle of the night and I'll come right over." He nodded and leaned his head on her shoulder, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Do you want me to skip my house meeting and stay with you? I don't want you to be alone."

"Why would he be alone?" Charlie asked.

"There's no point in him going to the parents' house meeting if he doesn't have his parents with him," Alex said quietly.

Charlie frowned, but their conversation was interrupted as James set down the tray on the table. "Okay, I'm pretty sure I got a few things you like," he said. He paused. "Did I interrupt somebody's funeral? Y'all look so sad."

"Jamie, would you mind if I sent just your dad with you to the Kennedy meeting?" Charlie asked.

James blinked. "Yeah, that's fine," he said as he sat down at Alex's other side. "Why? What's going on?"

"I'm going to go to the Lincoln House meeting instead," Charlie said. "As long as you're okay with that, Spencer." He nodded, too surprised to say anything. "Good."

She changed the subject, asking Alex and James about their scholarship applications, and Spencer slid back to his own seat and picked up his fork. He still wasn't particularly hungry, but he was hungry enough to at least eat a little bit.

At the end of lunch everyone dispersed- the Kennedy kids to the chapel, the Roosevelt kids to the gym, and the Lincoln kids to the auditorium. Alex kissed him on the cheek before she left with her family, and Charlie hugged James before starting the walk across campus.

"So do you like going to school here?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's a lot better than my school back in Las Vegas," he said. "They tried to keep me in elementary."

"James says you're far too smart for that," she said, and he beamed up at her. "What's your favorite subject?"

"Science, I think," he said. "Or math. Or literature? I love reading. I have trouble with some of the classwork, though, but Alex says my brain hasn't caught up yet and I think she's right. My classmates are all five or six years older than me, so their cerebral cortices are further developed than mine. But that doesn't make it any less frustrating."

"I see," Charlie said. "What do your parents think about you skipping so many grades?"

"My mom wanted me to skip earlier in elementary school," he said without thinking, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut.

"What about your dad?" Charlie asked gently.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled.

Charlie stopped and tugged him off to the side, catching his hands in hers. "Listen," she said softly. "I know you don't know me very well. And I know that you rely a lot on Alex and Aaron to take care of you. But they're still just kids too, and there's things they can't do." She squeezed his hands. "If your parents aren't reliable, and you need a grown up to help you, I hope you feel like you can talk to me, or with Ned. Okay?"

He swallowed hard. "The forms," he blurted out.

"What forms?"

"My parents were supposed to sign a bunch of my school forms, and they...they can't," he rushed out. "I don't know what to do."

Charlie squeezed his hands again. "Okay," she said. "Okay, I'll talk to your head of house afterwards and we'll see what I can do." She stood up, but she kept his hand in hers, and he didn't pull away.

The auditorium was a large space already; it felt hollow and cavernous, only a third filled with Lincoln students and their families. He sat down next to Charlie, his feet dangling far above the floor. His uniform cardigan wasn't warm enough to ward off the chill of the overly air-conditioned house.

Mr. Gideon stood on the floor in front of the stage, flipping through stacks of looseleaf notes and frowning. He glanced first at the assembled audience, then at his watch, as if he was surprised to see everyone there already, and then picked up the microphone off the stand. "All right, everybody," he said, and Spencer winced at the sudden squeal of feedback. Gideon frowned at the mic and jammed it back in place. "I'm not going to use that, I'm sure you can already hear me."

He dropped the papers and slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans; despite the apparent formality of the occasion, he was wearing one of his many threadbare sweaters. "First of all, if this is your first time attending one of these things, I want you to know that I think this whole 'troubled kids in Lincoln House' thing is crap," he said. "I've been head of house here for five years, and let me just tell you, there are bad kids everywhere, and good kids everywhere. Just because your son and daughter ended up here doesn't mean they're any less than the other kids on campus."

Spencer wriggled in his seat, craning his neck to get a look around. He could see JJ and her parents towards the front, Penelope and her grandparents in the row behind them. Derek sat with his mother and his two sisters across the aisle.

At first he didn't see Hotch, but he caught a glimpse of him towards the back of the group. He was sitting with his brother on one side and his uncle on the other. There was something strange and stiff about Hotch's expression, his eyes focused forward and serious as he chewed nervously on his lower lip. He seemed uncomfortable, and Spencer wasn't sure why.

Hotch's aunt sat next to Sean, whispering to him quietly. The aunt looked more like Sean than Hotch did, although her blonde hair was heightened by professional highlights and her blue eyes were accented by tasteful makeup. Maybe she was the one making Hoch feel so uncomfortable. She reminded Spencer of an expensive doll- pretty to look at, but hard plastic with a frozen expression. Despite himself he gave a little involuntary shiver and twisted back around to face forward.

At the end of the meeting, Charlie took Spencer by the hand. "Let's go talk to him," she said. "You ready?" He nodded, anxiety beginning to bubble in his throat like nausea.

Gideon was already packing up his papers as Charlie walked up to him, clearly ready for whatever he might throw at her. "Mr. Gideon?" she said brightly. "Hi. Could I speak to you for a moment?"

He scowled at her. "Sure," he said. He glanced down at Spencer. "Oh. Are you Spencer's mother?"

Spencer held his breath. Charlie paused, as if weighing her answer. "Um...guardian, actually," she said. "I heard he has some forms that need to be signed?"

Gideon scrutinized her for a moment, his eyes sharp and piercing as he gazed at her, as if it was his turn to weigh his answer. He looked down at Spencer, then back to Charlie. "Sure," he said. "Forms are in my office. Stop by Lincoln House this weekend and we'll get it taken care of."

He turned on his heel and stalked out. "Well," Charlie said, startled. "You know, James was in his intro to psychology class last year, and he said that Mr. Gideon was brilliant but somehow clueless at the same time. I didn't know what he meant then, but I think I get it now."

Spencer laughed at that, the bubble of anxiety popping and falling away. "Thank you for helping me, Mrs. Blake," he said.

"You can just call me Charlie, sweetheart," she said. "I'm glad I can help."

He smiled, scanning the auditorium for Hotch, because he wanted to tell him, wanted him to know that at least this one thing was going to be okay, but he was already gone, and his smile faded quickly.

* * *

Dave paced back and forth, tapping his fingertips against his upper arms. "Sit down, Rossi, you're making me nervous," Emily said.

"Easy for you to say," he shot back. "Your parents aren't in a conference with literally the scariest teacher you've ever had."

Emily tilted her head back. "Ah, yeah, that's definitely a perk of my mom not coming over from Italy," she said. "Jesus, now I'm picturing the Ambassador in a parent-teacher conference with my science teacher. Yeah, I'm glad she's not here right now."

Dave kept pacing. "I wish you weren't here right now," he grumbled. "You're stressing me out, Prentiss. Do you have to be here?"

Emily threw up her hands. "Where am I supposed to go?" she said. "Everyone else's parents' are at their conferences. I think Spencer got adopted by James's parents. And Alex is pissed off because I've been hanging out with her brothers all day. I don't know what people expect of me."

"Just...stop stressing me out," Dave said. "Go stress somebody else out."

She rolled her eyes at him and he went back to pacing. His parents always insisted on talking to all of his teachers, every semester. Usually he didn't mind this much, but it had taken all summer to convince them to let him take creative writing instead of statistics. He'd finally played the "it's my senior year, let me have an easy class" card and they'd relented. What were they going to say when they found out he was getting a low B in his supposedly "easy" class?

His parents walked into the room and he dropped his arms to his sides. "Hi, how'd it go?" he asked, his voice squeaking a little bit. Emily snickered and he ignored her.

"David, you didn't tell us you had a C in this class," Isabella said, shaking her head. "A C? In your easy class?"

His jaw dropped. "I thought I had a low B!" he protested.

"No, definitely a C," Anthony said. "I told you, son, you should have taken statistics instead."

Dave looked desperately over at Emily; she was scrolling through her phone and staring at the screen as if it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. "It's not that bad," he said. "We're barely through the first quarter. I have plenty of time to turn it around."

"I don't know, _mio caro_ ," Isabella said. "Maybe this wasn't a very good idea. Ms. Strauss doesn't seem to think this sort of thing is right for you. You can still transfer to another class. If you want to do something creative, maybe you can take ceramics instead."

"I'm not taking ceramics," he scoffed. "I like writing. I'm _good_ at writing."

"Good writers don't get Cs in their creative writing classes," Anthony said. He clapped his hand on Dave's shoulder. "David, I know you wanted to take this class, but if it's not a good fit, it's not a good fit. Besides, this sort of thing won't matter if you're applying for law school, but a failing grade sure will."

"I'm not failing!" he protested. "It's just a C! That's not failing!"

"It is around here," Anthony said. "It is if you're trying to go into an Ivy League for pre-law."

Dave bit back the sharp retort he wanted to say. He didn't want an Ivy League. He didn't want pre-law. He didn't want to become a lawyer and help them broker deals with the family real estate company.

"What if I want to take a gap year?" he said instead.

Isabella's hand flew to her throat in surprise. "A gap year?" she repeated. "Absolutely not, _carino_. You take a gap year, you'll fall so far behind!"

Dave sighed. "Okay, fine, forget I said it," he said.

"Your peers will get past you like that!" she said, snapping her fingers for emphasis.

"Gap years are for lazy people," Anthony added.

"I'm not lazy!"

Isabella shook her head. "By the time you actually apply to law school, everyone in your class will be younger than you!" she said. "You'll be outpaced!"

"Okay, Mom, it's fine, it's whatever," Dave said. "You don't have to get worked up over it."

"I'm not worked up!"

"Half your words are coming out in Italian."

"Maybe I am worked up!" she exclaimed. She cupped his face in her hands. "David, my baby, we have worked so hard to give you so many good things, so you could have a better, easier life than ours, and go off to make something great for yourself."

" _Mammina,_ it's a C in a creative writing class," he said, exasperated. "I'm not dropping out of high school to become an Instagram influencer or anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anthony asked.

"Nothing," Dave said. "Mom, can you let go of my face?" He sighed heavily. "I promise, I'll get my grade in this class up to an A by the end of the semester or I'll switch classes."

Isabella beamed at him. "That's my good boy," she crooned, patting his cheeks. "My handsome brilliant son. Oh, I can't wait for you to become a lawyer. You'll come work with me and your father, and you'll marry a lovely girl and give me lots and lots of grandchildren."

"Can we slow down a little, please?" Dave said. "I'm seventeen, I'm not ready to give you grandchildren."

"You have a girlfriend though, right?" Anthony said. "That Carolyn girl. I liked her. Whatever happened to her?"

"You didn't break her heart, did you, David Stephen?" Isabella said, letting go of his face and frowning at him.

"No, she just moved away!" Dave said. "The breakup was mutual!"

Anthony checked his watch. "Isabella, we have another conference coming up," he said. "David, we'll see you afterwards, all right?"

"Yeah, all right," he said.

As soon as they left the room Emily let out a long low whistle. "Wow, your parents are a lot," she said.

"They mean well," Dave said, sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor. "But...you're not wrong."

* * *

Hotch jogged down the front steps from Lincoln House towards the courtyard. He had his keys, he had his phone. He'd made arrangements for someone else to do room checks. He'd changed his shirt at least three times, trying to pick something that looked dressy enough to please his aunt.

It was a long walk from Lincoln House all the way to the parking lot, and he waited a good fifteen minutes on the curb waiting for them to come pick him up. Better to be early than later, at least, but the early evening was still warm and the sun had yet to set, making sweat cluster at the nape of his neck.

The rental car pulled up to the curb and parked. "Hi," he said as he climbed into the backseat, the AC rushing at him in a cool wave. "Thanks for coming to get me."

"No worries," Andrew said as he clicked his seatbelt into place. "We're looking forward to having dinner off campus, hope you are too. I'm sure it'll be nice to eat something that didn't come from your school cafeteria."

"Yeah, it will, thank you," Hotch said, settling back. He wasn't looking forward to a car ride in the backseat, but he could keep himself together for a little while.

"What's your curfew?" Victoria asked from her spot in the front seat.

"I'm allowed out until eleven, unless someone signs me in," he said.

She flipped the mirror down to check her lipstick. "We'll have you back by then," she assured him.

He tugged on the seatbelt, pulling it briefly away from his chest. "Did you have fun today, Sean?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Sean said. "Sometimes it was kind of boring, though."

"That happens," Hotch grinned. He nudged his little brother lightly. "So what's been going on while I've been gone? What's third grade like?"

Sean launched into a story immediately, and he listened as attentively as he could. He never missed anything or anyone when he was away at school except for his little brother. Seeing him was the best reminder of his end goal, the best motivation- that he would graduate from college as fast as he could, get his law degree and pass the bar, and soon as humanly possible he would apply to get custody of his brother. Sean was all he had left. He needed to keep him. He'd promised he would look out for him.

His uncle drove through the winding roads away from the school and towards Auden's Ridge. He wanted to ask where they were going, but he'd learned early on to measure out his questions carefully. Faint carsick nausea rose in the back of his throat, but he blocked it out and forced himself to focus on listening to Sean and asking him questions.

The car pulled into the parking lot of a chain restaurant. Hotch plucked lightly at the seatbelt crossing his chest; it suddenly felt too tight. "This is where we're eating?" he asked.

"Mm-hm, this is where Sean wanted to go," Victoria said.

This was fine. Everything was fine. He'd be fine.

He hoisted Sean out of the backseat and down to the pavement, then held out his hand. Sean took hold, gripping tight as they walked through the parking lot and into the lobby of the restaurant. Andrew went up to talk to the hostess, and Sean pulled free of Hotch's grip to run for the arcade games tucked to the side. "Mommy, can I play?" he begged.

"Not now, baby, maybe later," Victoria said. "Come here, sweetheart, stay close, please."

Hotch's heart squeezed in his chest. Sean had started calling their Aunt Victoria that at some point during the summer, and he only found out when he came back to visit between summer camp ending and the school year beginning. It had been a new habit then, but clearly their aunt had done nothing to stop it. Maybe she'd even encouraged it.

He took Sean's hand again as the hostess walked them to their table and set down menus. Hotch sat down and his stomach sank as he looked at the glossy photos.

He'd known his whole life that some foods just...didn't agree with him. No one had ever really figured out why. HIs childhood pediatrician said he'd outgrow it. His dad had said he was being a brat, his mother thought he was a picky eater. At his last physical- required every year before he was sent back to live in boarding school dorms- he'd asked about it and the doctor suggested it was just stress. At this point, all he knew for sure was to just avoid whatever seemed to mess with him the most.

And now he was at an Italian restaurant, surrounded by all sorts of foods that he knew were going to make him feel awful, and he didn't have a choice in the matter. His aunt and uncle would give him a hard time if he tried to make substitutions, and an ever harder time if he refused their generosity and refused to order anything at all. By the time the waitress came around he'd decided on something that would upset him the least. He just needed to eat enough to get through the meal without them grilling him about why he wasn't eating, and then he could take the leftovers home, maybe give them to Derek or something.

He cleared his throat. "So...I have all As so far this quarter," he offered.

"Yeah, your teachers had some really nice things to say," Andrew said. "You've made a lot of positive improvements."

He'd half expected something more in response, but at the same time he wasn't surprised. His aunt and uncle still saw him as the thirteen-year-old kid they picked up three years ago, scared and angry and defensive, always willing to jump into a fight. Maybe someday they'd acknowledge that he'd grown up, that he was turning things around.

The waitress brought them waters and a handful of crayons for Sean. "I just checked, your entrees will be out in just a little bit," she said as she set down a basket of breadsticks in the middle of the table. "Can I get y'all anything else?"

"A glass of chardonnay, please," Victoria said.

Hotch picked up a green crayon and slid it closer to Sean before it could roll off the edge of the table. "What're you going to draw?" he asked.

Sean shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Mom, can I have my iPad now?"

"Not now, sweetie, after dinner," she said, reaching over to pat his hand. "Do you want some breadsticks?"

He brightened. "Yeah!" he said, and Victoria placed two on his plate. She didn't offer any to Hotch, and he was grateful. One less thing to arouse suspicion.

"So my psychology teacher thinks I'm doing really well," he said. "He thinks I have a lot of potential."

"That's lovely, Aaron," Victoria said as the waitress set down her glass of wine.

"I might major in it," he said. "Before I go to law school. I guess it'll depend on my scores after I take the SAT."

"Mm-hm," Victoria said, taking a sip of her wine. "Sean, baby, watch your elbow, you're about to knock your water over. Andrew, can you-"

Hotch moved it before his uncle could reach; Sean didn't look up, still busily coloring on his thin paper kid's menu. "What are you drawing?" he asked. "Is that one of those Minecraft things?"

Sean made a face. "No one likes Minecraft anymore," he scoffed.

"Oh," Hotch said. "Well, I don't see a lot of kids your age, so I don't know what's cool with elementary schoolers."

He tried to make it a joke, but nobody laughed. "Yes, you do," Sean said. "You've got that weird kid."

"Spencer's not weird," Hotch said. "He's smart. And I'm responsible for him, he's on my floor."

He glanced at his aunt and uncle out of the corner of his eye, but they didn't seem fazed. "Besides, it's not nice to call somebody weird," he said. "You shouldn't say it."

"Aaron, don't discipline him, you're not his parent," Andrew warned.

He bit back his sharp reply as the waitress stopped at their table with her tray full of plates. She passed them out in turn, and his stomach turned as she set his plate in front of him. This was not what he ordered. Not even in the slightest. The plate in front of him was piled high with pasta glossy with a thick reddish creamy sauce and topped with some kind of fried chicken. It looked good. But he just knew deep down that he would regret it if he ate it.

At the same time, he knew he'd be scolded if he tried to swap it for what he'd really ordered, or if he didn't eat all. He'd been through it all before- the lectures about being ungrateful, being scolded for wasting perfectly good food, getting told that he could either eat it or go to bed hungry. So he cut off a small piece of the chicken and took a bite.

It was good. It was _so, so good._

For the past few months he'd been so regulated, eating the safe foods even if he was sick of having them every day, filling himself up on things that wouldn't make him nauseous or break him out in hives. Just this once he could let himself eat something heavy and delicious. And besides, they were probably right, it probably was just stress, or all in his head. He took another bite, clumping pasta around his fork, and nearly sighed audibly.

"Seanie, do you need some help with your spaghetti?" Victoria asked. She laughed lightly. "I know, sweetie, it's tough. Andrew, can you help him out?"

"I can do it," Hotch said, setting his utensils down, but his uncle got there first, teasing Sean playfully and making him laugh. He picked up his fork again. Half. If he ate half, he could avoid their lectures, and then he could take the rest home, but in the meantime he would enjoy himself while he still could. Besides, his father was probably right. It probably was just all in his head.

They had almost made it through dinner when Andrew cleared his throat. "Aaron," he said. "There's something we'd like to talk to you about."

The last time he heard his uncle sound so serious was when they sat him down to tell him they were sending him away to boarding school. He lowered his fork, gripping it a little too tightly. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong," Victoria said. "We just-" She looked at Andrew, smiling tremulously. "We have something we want to tell you."

Hotch sat up a little straighter, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. "We've had custody of you and Sean for three years," Andrew began.

"We'd like to make things a little more permanent," Victoria said. "We've decided...to adopt Sean."

His fork slipped from his fingers. "You can't," he said blankly.

"We've already filed the paperwork," Andrew said. "It should be done by the end of the year. Maybe sooner."

Hotch stared at his plate. The food no longer looked appetizing; grease clustered on the surface of the fried chicken and the sauce-coated noodles seemed thin and slimy. "You can't adopt us," he repeated. "I...I was…"

They exchanged a look between them. "I don't know if you understand," Victoria said. "We're adopting Sean."

A lump rose in his throat. "Sean," he repeated. A lump rose in his throat. He looked over at his little brother; Sean was still poking at his dinner, seemingly unbothered by the conversation. "Just Sean."

"You understand, right?" Andrew said, smiling at him. "You're almost seventeen. Sean's only eight. We're really the only parents he knows."

"I promised my sister that if anything happened to her, we would take care of both of you boys," Victoria said. "And we did. You're always welcome to come visit when school isn't in session, and you'll receive your full inheritance when you turn eighteen."

"It's more than enough to get you through college and get you started on your own," Andrew said.

"So, what, he's going to be Sean Eubanks now and I'm just some relative who visits for Christmas?" Hotch said bitterly.

"That is uncalled for," Victoria said sharply.

"You'll always be Sean's biological brother," Andrew said. "But you have to understand, we're doing what's best for him. Don't you think he deserves to grow up with loving parents?"

"What about me?" Hotch retorted. "Don't I deserve that too?"

Victoria stood up a little too quickly, nearly knocking her wine glass over. "That's enough!" she said, her voice wobbling. "I will not have you causing a scene." She exhaled, quick and wet, as if she was on the verge of tears. "God, I knew you'd throw a tantrum about this."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum," he said in a low voice.

"Victoria, sit down," Andrew soothed.

She threw her napkin down and shook her head. "I...I need a moment," she said. "I'll meet you in the car. I'm not hungry."

She hurried away and Andrew sighed. "Aaron, you've got to be a little more mature about this," he said. "We are truly trying to keep Sean's best interests at heart. And yours. You've always been so...independent. We'll still be your legal guardians, nothing will change that. But we want to be Sean's parents."

"Sean has parents," Hotch shot back.

"If it had been up to us, we would have adopted Sean years ago," Andrew snapped. "Your aunt has always wanted to have children, and when your mother died she tried desperately to get custody of him, but your father-" He stopped midsentence. "We're doing what's best for Sean. You should try doing that yourself for once, instead of lashing out when things don't go the way you want them to."

Sean dropped his crayons on the table. "Daddy, now can I go play in the arcade?" he interrupted.

"Sure," Andrew said, digging in his wallet and pulling out a handful of dollar bills and loose coins. "Why not. You go play while I get boxes for the leftovers and pay." He looked Hotch right in the eye. "Aaron, are you able to keep an eye on him?"

"Sure," Hotch said through his teeth as he took the money. He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape. "Come on, Sean."

He walked with his little brother through the restaurant back to the arcade games, his stomach beginning to churn. The consoles chimed with cheerful, clashing music; Sean slapped his palms on a couple of grease slick buttons. "I wanna play this one," he announced.

Hotch dropped the right amount of money into the slot and Sean cheered as the game started. He stood next to him, arms limp at his sides, nausea pulsing at the pit of his stomach as his thoughts tumbled. There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all. Even if he could graduate from high school today and get his law degree tomorrow, there was no way he could convince anyone that he should get custody of his little brother.

Sean rattled the joystick. "I lost," he whined, kicking at the console. "Aaron, can you put in more money?"

"Sean," he said, his mouth dry. "Sean, you don't have to do this."

Sean screwed up his face. "But I want to play," he objected.

"No, I mean...the adoption," Hotch said. "You don't have to get adopted if you don't want to."

He shrugged. "Mom and Dad said that they're already my parents, and they're just getting a piece of paper that says it so everybody knows it too," he said.

Hotch knelt down and took his arms. "Sean, you remember Mama, right?" he said quietly. " _Our_ mother, our _real_ mother."

Sean blinked. "No," he said.

Inadvertently he squeezed his arms a little harder. "Her name was Eliza, remember?" he said. "She had blonde hair and blue eyes just like yours. You know the picture in the foyer, the big one in the gold frame? That's Mama."

It was the only photo of his mother in the house, one of her senior pictures, a beautiful girl in a white dress smiling brightly. It was the only picture his aunt allowed because three months after that Eliza Mackenzie met Edward Hotchner, and nothing was ever the same again.

Sean's chin wobbled. "I don't remember," he said. He squirmed a little bit. "I was a baby when she went to heaven. Leggo, Aaron."

Hotch gave him a little shake. "I'll take care of you," he said. "You can stay with me. I'm your brother, I'm your big brother, I'm supposed to protect you. And I will."

"But I want to stay with them!" Sean protested. "I don't want to live with you! Let go, Aaron!"

"We have to stay together!" Hotch said. "I promised her, I promised her I would take care of you. Listen to me, Sean, I-"

"No!" Sean yelped. "I don't want to! I want to stay with Mommy and Daddy. And besides, Mommy says you're just like our old dad and you're going to end up just like him someday! She says you're bad like him!"

Hotch stumbled back as if he'd been struck, his grip falling loose, and Sean broke away from him. "I wanna stay with them," he said. "You're just mad because they only want me and they don't want to keep you too."

Hotch stared at him, as if he didn't recognize him anymore. "Sean, finish your game and let's go," Andrew called from the lobby.

"I'm coming," Sean called back, his eyes still locked on Hotch's.

He backed away before turning on his heel and running out of the arcade, and Hotch sank down on the floor, his balance wavering. He sat there for a moment, the cheerful video game music blurring in his ears and his stomach threatening to turn inside out, and after a while he got up silently, his eyes dry, his mouth set in a grim line, and he walked to the car without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy SHIT this is a lot. 
> 
> a lot of people on tumblr were hoping for Hotch angst. HERE IT IS. I have a lot planned for this poor sweet boy.
> 
> honestly a lot of the babes are having a rough time. but Hotch is MISERABLE. 
> 
> if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment here! I'd love to know what you think. And this chapter is TWELVE THOUSAND words long. Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me! 
> 
> (the next chapter is also going to be angsty if that's the sort of thing you like to read)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [and let the words fall out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464079) by [minuanos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minuanos/pseuds/minuanos)
  * [The Day Spencer Mispronounced a Word](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25530994) by [Zelofheda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelofheda/pseuds/Zelofheda)
  * [The Make-Up Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25845994) by [pied_pollo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pied_pollo/pseuds/pied_pollo)
  * [hotchner's hoodie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25894480) by [yourlocalheartbreaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlocalheartbreaker/pseuds/yourlocalheartbreaker)
  * [The Day Spencer Went to Chess Club](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25932955) by [Zelofheda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelofheda/pseuds/Zelofheda)
  * [I'm Fine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255995) by [SwallowsSong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwallowsSong/pseuds/SwallowsSong)
  * [Play Date](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447932) by [SwallowsSong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwallowsSong/pseuds/SwallowsSong)




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